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EVERYCHILD 


BY LOUIS DODGE 


Illustrated by Paul Bransom 
THE sandman’s FOREST 
THE sandman’s MOUNTAIN 

Stories for Large Persons 
to Read to Small Persons 


Illustrated by Blanche Fisher Laite 
EVERYCHILD 


CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS 





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“Poor Cinderella.” 


^EVERYCHILD " 

A STORY WHICH THE OLD MAY INTERPRET TO THE YOUNG 
AND WHICH THE YOUNG MAY INTERPRET TO THE OLD 

BY 

LOUIS DODGE 



ILLUSTRATED BY 

BLANCHE FISHER LAITE / 
NEW YORK 

CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS 

1921 

Ctrp| ^ 








Copyright, 1921, by 

CHARLES SCRIBXER’S SONS 


/ 


SEP 21 (921 


THE SCRIBNER PRESS 






0)CI.A622930 


TO FREDERICA BRITTON 


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CONTENTS 


PART I 

Argument : — Every child encounters the giant Fear 


and sets forth on a strange journey. 

CHAPTER PAGE 

I. THE TWO STRANGERS 3 

II. EVERYCHILD’S ENCOUNTER WITH 

THE GIANT 10 

III. EVERYCHILD ENCOUNTERS ALADDIN 

OF THE WONDERFUL LAMP .... 23 

IV. EVERYCHILD IS JOINED BY HANSEL 

AND GRETTEL 34 

V. A DASHING YOUTH IN THE FOREST . 44 

VI. A FIGHT WHICH WAS STRANGELY 

ENDED 54 

Vn. THE ADVENTURE OF WILL O’DREAMS 66 

PART II 


Argument : — Every child 'pities the sorrow of 
Cinderella and rejoices in her release from bond- 
age; he encounters a dog that looks upon him 


'with favor. 

VIII. A PURSUIT IN THE DARK 77 

IX. CINDERELLA AT HOME 81 

vii 


CONTENTS 


CHAFTEB PAQB 

X. CINDERELLA’S DECISION 90 


XI. SOME ONE PASSES WITH A SONG ON 

THE ROAD OF TROUBLED CHILDREN 100 

Xn. EVERYCHILD BECOMES ACQUAINTED 


WITH A POOR DOG 105 

XIII. A TERRIBLE LADY AT HOME 116 

XIV. MR. LITERAL’S WARNING 123 


PART III 


Argument: — Every child views with amazement 
a famous dwelling-place, and is grieved by the 
plight of an unfortunate prince. 

XV. A STRANGE HOUSE IN THE FOREST . 129 

XVI. AN ELABORATION OF ONE OF HIS- 
TORY’S MOST SUCCINCT CHAPTERS 136 

XVII. EVERYCHILD, WITH ADDITIONAL 
COMPANIONS, FINDS REFUGE IN 
AN OLD HOUSE 150 

XVIII. HOW THE HAND OF A CHAMBERLAIN 

TREMBLED 157 

XIX. HOW AN UNFORTUNATE PRINCE ES- 
CAPED 167 


Vlll 


CONTENTS 


PART IV 

Argument: — EverychUd*s feet are drawn to the 
spot where the sleeping beauty in the wood lies. 


Time passes. 

CHAPTER PAQB 

XX. A SONG IN A GARDEN 177 

XXI. AN ENCOUNTER IN THE ATTIC ... 184 

XXII. THE END OF A HUNDRED YEARS . . 193 

XXm. THE AWAKENING 202 

XXIV. TIME PASSES 210 

PART V 


Argument: — On his wanderings Every child be- 
thinks him of his parents, and discovers that 
though he has seemed to lose them, he has not 
really done so. 

XXV. WILL O’DREAMS REPORTS A DISCOV- 
ERY 213 

XXVI. THE HIDDEN TEMPLE 225 

XXVn. HOW EVIL DAYS CAME UPON THE 

CASTLE 235 

XXVIII. THE MOUNTAIN OF REALITY .... 241 

XXIX. THE MASKED LADY’S SECRET .... 251 

XXX. WILL O’DREAMS MAKES A DISCOVERY 258 

XXXI. HOW ALADDIN MADE A WISH .... 262 

XXXn. THE HALL OF PARENTS 267 


IX 























ILLUSTRATIONS 


“Poor Cinderella” Frontispiece 

rAClNQ PAQB 

“You are Hansel and Grettel” 36 

“Masterpieces indeed! — in a forest! There are master- 
pieces” 70 

She sniffed as if there were a fire somewhere 118 

“As for living in a shoe — there’s plenty of females that 

live in two” 138 


They began a game which consisted of singing and dancing 


180 






PART I 


argument: — EVERYCHILD ENCOUNTERS THE 
GIANT FEAR AND SETS FORTH ON A 
STRANGE JOURNEY. 































CHAPTER I 


THE TWO STRANGERS 

T T did not seem a very pleasant room. To be 
^ sure, there were a great many nice things in 
it. There was rose-colored paper on the wall, 
and the woodwork was of ivory, with gilt lines. 
There were pictures of ships on the ocean and of 
high trees and of the sun going down behind a 
hill, and there was one of an old mill with nobody 
at all in sight. And there was one picture with 
dogs in it. 

There was a soft rug, also of rose-color, and a 
fine clock, shaped hke a state capitol, on the 
mantel. There was a silver gong in the clock 
which made beautiful music. There was a nice 
reading table with books on it, and a lamp. The 
lamp had a shade made up of queerly-shaped 
bits of material like onyx, and a fringe of rose- 
colored beads. Yet for all this, it did not seem 
a pleasant room. You could feel that something 
3 


EVERYCHILD 


was wrong. You know, there are always so 
many things in a room which you cannot see. 

A lady and a gentleman sat at the reading- 
table, one on either side. It seemed they hadn’t 
a word to say to each other. They did not even 
look at each other. The lady turned the pages 
of a magazine without seeing a single thing. 
The gentleman sat staring straight before him, 
and after a long time he stretched himself and 
said: “Ho — ^hum!” And then he began to 
frown and to stare at an oak chair over against 
the wall. 

You might have supposed he had a grudge 
against the chair; and it seemed that the chair 
might be crying out to him in its own language : 
“I am not merely a chair. Look at me! I was 
a limb on a mighty oak. I was a child of the 
sun and the rain and the earth. I used to sing 
and dance. Oh, do not look at me like that!” 
But the gentleman knew nothing of all this. 

Both the lady and the gentleman were think- 
ing of nothing but themselves and they continued 
to do this even when a door opened and their 
son entered the room. 


4 


THE TWO STRANGERS 

Their son’s name was Everychild; and because 
he is to be the most important person in this 
story I should like to tell you as much about him 
as I can. But really, there is very little I can 
tell. His mother often said that he was a peculiar 
child. It was almost impossible to tell what his 
thoughts were, or his dreams, or how much he 
loved this person or that, or what he desired 
most. 

It was difficult for him to get into the room. 
He was carrying something which he could not 
manage very well. But no one offered to help 
him. Presently he had got quite into the room, 
leaving the door open. 

The thing he carried was a kite, and he was 
holding it high to keep it free of the ground. 
The tail had got caught in the string and there 
was a rent in the blue paper. 

The clock struck just as he entered and he 
stopped to count the strokes. Seven. The last 
stroke died away with a quivering sound. Then 
with faltering feet he approached his father. 

His father was frowning. He stopped and 
pondered. He had seen that frown on his 

5 


EVERYCHILD 


father’s face many times before, and it had 
always puzzled him. Sometimes it would come 
while you watched, and you couldn’t think what 
made it come. Or it would go away in the 
strangest manner, without anything having hap- 
pened at all. It was a great mystery. 

The frown did not go away this time; and 
presently Everychild approached his father 
timidly. It was rather difficult for him to speak ; 
but he managed to say: 

“Daddy, do you think you could fix it for me?” 
He brought the torn kite further forward and 
held it higher. 

His father did not look at him at all! 

Everychild’s heart pounded loudly. How 
could one go on speaking to a person who would 
not even look? Yet he persisted. “Could you?” 
he repeated. 

His father moved a little, but still he did not 
look at Everychild. He said rather impatiently: 
“Never mind now, son.” 

Then his mother spoke. She had glanced up 
from her magazine. “You’ve left the door open, 
Everychild,” she said. 


6 


THE TWO STRANGERS 

Everychild put his kite down with care. He 
returned to the door. It was a stubborn door. 
He pulled at it once and again. It closed with 
a bang. 

“Everychild!” exclaimed his mother. The 
noise had made her jump a little. 

“It always bangs when you close it,” said 
Everychild. 

“It wouldn’t bang if you didn’t open it,” said 
his mother. 

He returned and stood beside his father. 
“You know you used to fix things for me,” he 
said. He reflected and brightened a little. 
“And play with me,” he added. “Don’t you 
remember?” 

But just then it seemed that his father and 
mother thought of something to say to each 
other. Their manner was quite unpleasant. 
They talked without waiting for each other to 
get through, and Everychild could not under- 
stand a thing they were saying. He withdrew a 
little and waited. 

But when his parents had talked a little while, 
rather loudly, his father got up and went out. 

7 


EVERYCHILD 


He put his hat on, pulling it down over his eyes. 
And he banged the door. But it was the outside 
door this time, which never banged at all if you 
were careful. 

And then his mother got up and went to her 
own room — ^which meant that she mustn’t be dis- 
turbed. 

Everychild stood for a moment, puzzled ; and 
then he thought of the broken kite in his hands. 
He plucked at it slowly. You would have sup- 
posed that he did not care greatly, now, whether 
the kite got mended or not. But little by little 
he became interested in the kite. He sat down 
on the floor and began to untangle the tail. 

He scarcely knew when the inner door opened 
and the cook entered the room. 

She was a large, plain person. Her face was 
redder than Everychild’s mother’s face, but not 
so pretty. Her eyes often seemed tired, but never 
too tired to beam a little. 

“Are you all alone, Everychild?” she asked. 
She did not wait for a reply, but asked another 

question: “Is something wrong with your kite?” 

8 


THE TWO STRANGERS 


And again without waiting for a reply she added : 
“Maybe I could fix it for you!” 

And she got down on the rug on her knees 
and took the kite from his hands. 

Everychild, standing beside her, looked into 
her rather sad, kind eyes, which were closer to 
him than he remembered their ever having been 
before. There were little moist lines about them, 
and they were faded. Her hands were not at 
all like his mother’s hands. Not nearly so nice: 
and yet how clever they were! She was really 
untangling the tail of the kite, moving it here 
and there with large gestures. 

And then Everychild forgot all about the kite. 
Certain amazing things had begun to happen 
near by. 

It had been getting dark in the room; and 
now it suddenly became quite bright, though no 
one had turned the lights on. And there was a 
sound of music — a short bit of a march, which 
ended all of a sudden. And then Everychild 
realized that by some strange process two per- 
sons had entered the room. 


9 


CHAPTER II 


EVERYCHILD’S ENCOUNTER WITH THE GIANT 

H e was almost afraid to look at the two 
strange persons, because their being there 
seemed very mysterious, and he had the thought 
that if he looked at them steadily they might 
vanish. He knew at once that they were not to be 
treated just as if they were ordinary persons. It 
was not only that they had come into the room 
without making any noise, or that there had been 
that burst of music, or that the light had bright- 
ened. 

It was rather because the cook went on un- 
tangling the kite, just as if nothing had hap- 
pened. 

He said to himself, “She does not know they 
are here. She does not know I have seen any- 
thing.” 

Then it occurred to him that the two strang- 
ers were not paying any attention to him at all, 
10 


EVERYCHILD AND THE GIANT 


and that he might look at them as much as he 
pleased. 

Suddenly he recognized one of them. He had 
seen his picture. It was Father Time. And he 
could have laughed to himself because Father 
Time was a much more pleasing person than he 
had been in his picture. It is true that he car- 
ried a scythe, just as he had been pictured as 
doing. There was a sand-glass too. It was in 
two parts, connected by a narrow stem through 
which the sand was running from one part to 
the other. 

But he did not have a long white beard, and 
a dark robe, and a stern face. Not at aU. His 
eyes were all ready to twinkle. They were the 
kindest eyes Every child had ever seen. You 
could tell by looking at them that if you were 
to hurt yourself Father Time would pity you 
and comfort you. He had a rather jolly figure. 
You could imagine he might be very playful. 
And he wore the cpstume of a jester — ^though 
you did not feel^ like laughing at him, because 
his eyes were so friendly and kind. He stood 

as if he were waiting to begin some sort of play. 

11 


EVERYCHILD 


Then Everychild looked at the other stranger. 
She was a lady, and very distinguished looking. 
He did not recognize her, though he felt at once 
that she was a very important person. She was 
dressed all in shimmering white. She was very 
fair and her hair was dressed beautifully. She 
wore a band about her hair and there was a jewel 
in it, like a star. She wore a little mask over her 
eyes so that you could not be sure at once whether 
she was a kind person or not. She sat at a spin- 
ning wheel, and the wheel went round and round 
without making any noise. She was spinning 
something. She looked very tranquil. 

Everychild was becoming greatly excited. He 
touched the cook on the hand. “Didn’t it seem 
to you to get much lighter?” he asked. 

“Lighter? No. It’s getting darker,” she: re- 
plied. 

“And — and didn’t you hear any music, either?” 

“I heard nothing.” 

It made him feel almost forlorn to have the 
cook say she had not noticed anything. He drew 
closer to her. “Never mind the kite now,” he 

said. “I want you . . . Oh, don’t you see any- 
12 


EVERYCHILD AND THE GIANT 


thing at all? Please look!” He stood with one 
finger on his lip, staring at Father Time and the 
Masked Lady. 

She regarded TmiTalmost with alarm. “Lord 
bless the child, what’s coming over him?” she ex- 
claimed. “There’s nothing there!” She followed 
the direction of his eyes, and then she looked at 
him with an indulgent smile. “There, put your 
kite away,” she said. “It’s all right now except 
for that rent in it. I’ll mend that to-morrow. 
And try to be a good boy. You mustn’t be 
fanciful, you know!” 

She patted him on the back and then she left 
the room. 

He stood quite forlorn, watching her depart. 
Then with nervous haste he made as if to follow 
her. But at the door, which she had closed, he 
stopped. You could tell that he was making up 
his mind to do something. Then he turned slowly 
so that he faced Father Time and the Masked 
Lady. Presently he took a step in their direction. 
And at length, with a very great effort, he spoke. 

“Please — ^tell me who you are!” he said. 

It was Father Time who replied. He replied 
13 


EVERYCHILD 


in a voice which was quite thrilling, though not 
at all terrifying: 

“We are the true friends of Everychild!” 

Everychild brought his hands together in per- 
plexity. “Friends?” he said. “I — I think I 
never saw you before. I may have seen your pic- 
ture. Yours, I mean. Not the — ^the lady’s. And 
I’m not sure I know your right name. If you’d 
tell me, and if — ^if the lady would take her mask 
off ” 

But Father Time interrupted him. In a solemn 
voice he said, “Everychild, I have come to bid you 
leave all that has been closest to you and set forth 
upon a strange journey.” 

At this Everychild was deeply awed. Perhaps 
he was a little frightened. “All that has been 
closest?” he repeated. “My mother and father 
— it is they who have always been closest.” 

“Everychild must bid farewell to father and 
mother,” declared Father Time. 

And now Everychild was indeed dismayed. 
“Bid farewell to them?” he echoed. “Oh, please 
. . . and shall I never see them again?” He 
wished very much to approach Father Time and 
14 


EVERYCHILD AND THE GIANT 


plead with him; but Father Time held up an ar- 
resting hand and spoke again, almost as if he 
were a minister in church. 

‘Tt is not given to Everychild to know what 
the future holds,” he said. And then he again 
made a polite gesture toward the Masked Lady. 
“Only she can tell what the end of the journey 
shall be,” he said. . 

It was now that Everychild looked earnestly 
at the Masked Lady. If she would only take 
her mask off! With a great effort he asked — 
“And she — ^will she befriend me when I have 
gone from my father and mother?” 

With the deepest assurance Father Time re- 
plied, “Give her your affection and she will be- 
friend you in every hour of loss and pain, clear 
to the end of your journey — and beyond.” 

“But,” said Everychild, “she — she doesn’t look 
very — she looks rather — rather fearful, doesn’t 
she?” 

“She is beautiful only to those who love her,” 
said Father Time. 

This seemed reassuring; and now Everychild 

ventured to address the Masked Lady directly. 

15 


EVERYCHILD 

“And — and will you go with me?” he asked 
timidly. 

She rephed with great earnestness: “E very- 
child, go where you will, you have only to desire 
me greatly and I shall be with you.” 

Then it seemed to Everychild that it would not 
be a very terrible thing to go away, after all. 

It was plain that Father Time and the Masked 
Lady were waiting for him to go; and so with- 
out any more ado he boldly approached the door 
which opened out upon the street. But his heart 
failed him again. He drew back from the door 
and cried out — “No, no! I cannot. I cannot 
go out that way. Is there no other way for me 
to go?” 

It seemed to him that his heart must cease to 
beat when Father Time exclaimed in a loud 
voice — 

“Go, Everychild!” 

Still he hung back. “But not that way!” he 
repeated. “The wide world lies that way, and I 
should be afraid.” 

“I know,” said Father Time, “that the Giant 
16 


EVERYCHILD AND THE GIANT 


Fear lives outside that door. But him you shall 
slay, and then the way will be clear.” 

shall slay him?” exclaimed Everychild won- 
deringly. “How shall I slay him?” 

“Do not doubt, and a way shall be found.” 

It was just at this moment that something 
very terrifying occurred. There was a stealthy 
step outside the door — ^the sort of step you hear 
when it is dark and you are alone. And Every- 
child could not help shrinking back as he stood 
with his fascinated eyes held on the door. He 
was staring at the door, yet he knew that the 
Masked Lady and Father Time were listening to 
that stealthy step too. The Masked Lady had 
put aside her spinning wheel, and Father Time 
had become very grave. 

There was a brief interval of suspense and then 
the door began to open, inch by inch, very slowly. 
Two terrible eyes became visible. 

Everychild knew immediately that it was the 
Giant Fear, though for a moment he could see 
nothing but the peeping eyes’ which leered hor- 
ribly. And when the Giant Fear perceived that 
17 


EVERYCHILD 


Everychild was terrified, he thrust the door open 
wide and stood on the threshold. 

He was, I may tell you at once, the most 
hideous creature in the world. His cruel grin 
was too evil a thing to be described. He car- 
ried a great bludgeon. From his lower jaw a 
yellow tusk arose at either corner of his mouth 
and projected beyond his upper lip. His ears 
covered the whole sides of his head. His jaws 
were as large around as a bushel basket. 

At first, after he had entered the room, he 
did not perceive either Father Time or the 
Masked Lady. He dropped one end of his blud- 
geon to the floor with a thump, and there he stood 
leering at Everychild with a sinister and trium- 
phant expression. 

Only a moment he stood, and then he advanced 
a step toward Everychild. But just at that in- 
stant Father Time moved slightly and the in- 
truder became aware of his presence. The wicked 
smile on his terrible face began to freeze slowly. 
The great creature shrank away from Father 
Time; and as he did so he became aware of the 
presence of the Masked Lady on his other side. 

18 


EVERYCHILD AND THE GIANT 

For an instant he trembled from head to foot! 
And then more hurriedly he took another step 
toward Everychild. 

Everychild was trying very hard to hold his 
ground ; but in truth he could feel his knees giving 
way beneath him and it seemed that he must fall 
if the giant advanced another inch. Nor did the 
giant fail to note that Everychild was in distress, 
and at this he regained something of his bold- 
ness. In a loud, terrible voice he spoke to Every- 
child : 

“Ah — ^ha! And so you were getting ready to 
defy me — ^hey ?” 

Everychild’s teeth chattered as he replied: 
“Please go away!” 

The giant nodded exultantly. In the same 
great voice he said, “You know me, I suppose? — 
the Giant Fear who always makes Everychild 
tremble?” 

A calm voice interposed — ^the voice of Father 
Time : “The Giant Fear, whom Everychild may 
conquer!” 

The voice was so reassuring, and the eyes of 
Father Time were so calm and friendly, that 
19 


EVERYCHILD 


Everychild ceased to despair. With trembling 
limbs he ran to Father Time. “If you would 

lend me your scythe he gasped. He laid a 

hand on the scythe of Father Time. 

But Father Time withheld the scythe. He 
said gently, “The scythe of Father Time is a 
wonderful weapon ; but a better one is at Every- 
child’s command* Behold!” 

As he spoke he pointed majestically to the 
Masked Lady. 

She had arisen, and Everychild saw that she 
held aloft a slim, shining sword I 

A hush fell within the room; but presently 
Everychild, addressing Father Time, whispered : 
“A sword! And may I take it?” 

With a very firm voice Father Time replied : 
“You may, and with it you shall prevail!” 

Oddly enough, Everychild forgot for the mo- 
ment that he was in peril. He drew near to the 
Masked Lady, and he could see that she was smil- 
ing. She placed the sword in his hand. 

At first he held it awkwardly, yet he looked 
at it with shining eyes. Then he turned about, 
holding the sword forward, as the Masked Lady 
20 


EVERYCHILD AND THE GIANT 

had held it. He could feel that the hilt of the 
sword was beginning to fit snugly into his hand. 

Gradually a strange transformation occurred. 
His body straightened, his eyes shone more than 
ever. He took a step forward, and he knew that 
his knees were no longer trembling. In a clear 
voice he cried out to the Giant Fear : 

“Defend yourself!” 

But the giant reeled and trembled. He tried 
to hold his bludgeon aloft, but his hands shook 
so that it nearly fell. He became as pale as death, 
and it was quite impossible for him to meet 
Everychild’s eye. He retreated with stumbling 
steps. It seemed that he would fall. His power 
had deserted him. 

He made a last, terrible effort to lift his blud- 
geon; but Everychild darted forward with the 
speed of lightning, holding his sword before him. 
It was a very sharp sword, and it pierced the 
giant’s body as easily as if the great creature 
had been made of paper. 

The Giant Fear tottered. His bludgeon slipped 
from his grasp and his eyes became dim. He 

fell with a crash. He was dead! 

21 


EVERYCHILD 


At that very moment a sound of distant music 
could be heard. It was all very wonderful. The 
music drew nearer; it sounded more loudly. 

Everychild turned and restored the slim sword 
to the Masked Lady. 

“Do you not wish to keep it ?” she asked. 

But it seemed to Everychild that he had no 
need of the sword, now that the Giant Fear was 
dead. “Thank you, I shall not need it again,” 
he said. 

She said, in a strange, sad voice, “Alas, the 
greatest need of my sword arises after fear is 
gone!” 

But he scarcely heeded her now. The sound 
of music was heard much nearer. He lifted his 
eyes and beheld the door which had always stood 
between him and the world. He drew nearer to 
the door. It was wide open. 

He heard the voice of Father Time: “The mo- 
ment has arrived for you to go, Everychild!” 

He caught step with the music, which was very 
loud now. 

He marched valiantly away. 


22 


CHAPTER III 


EVERYCHILD ENCOUNTERS ALADDIN OF THE 
WONDERFUL LAMP 

T TE knew he could go wherever he pleased, 
and so with very little delay he entered 
a deep forest. It was evening and the wind was 
sighing in the great trees. A winding road 
stretched before him like a gray ribbon. 

Soon he came to where a boy sat by the side 
of the road. The boy sat on a small Oriental 
rug, and by his side stood a very peculiar lamp. 
The boy was clad in a purple garment made of 
silk, with slippers to match. He wore a very 
fine skull-cap, also of silk, and a pig-tail hung 
down his back. His eyes were very peculiar. 
They were placed in his head a little on end; 
but they were bright and friendly. His mouth 
was like a little bow. The lips were merry and 
red. His cheeks were like peaches. 

Everychild stopped and looked at the boy, 

and the boy smiled at him. “I am trying to think 
23 


EVERYCHILD 


of your name,” said Everychild, pondering. 
Surely he had seen this boy before — but where? 

“Everychild knows me,” returned the boy. 
“My name is Aladdin.” 

“Aladdin — of course!” said Everychild. He 
sat down by Aladdin on the Oriental rug. “And 
this is your lamp,” he said, his eyes shining. 

“Ala^l — ^yes,” replied Aladdin sadly; and 
Everychild was surprised that Aladdin could 
speak sadly. But Aladdin said no more about 
the lamp just then. He turned his eyes, which 
seemed a bit askew, upon Everychild. “You 
were marching bravely as you came along,” he 
said. “I was watching you. And I thought to 
myself, ‘How can any one walk bravely along 
a road like this?’ ” 

For an instant Everychild’s heart was troubled. 
“Isn’t it a good road to walk on?” he asked. 

Aladdin’s reply was: “It is called The Road of 
Troubled Children.” 

Everychild thought a moment. That was a 
strange name, certainly. “It seems a little lone- 
ly,” he ventured, thinking that perhaps Aladdin 

would explain why he did not like the road. 

24 


EVERYCHILD ANGD ALADDIN 


“It is lonely,” said Aladdin; “yet all children 
walk here sometimes. You see, it is a very long 
road, so that many may walk on it without en- 
countering one another.” 

Neither spoke for a moment, and there was 
no sound save the wind in the trees. 

Then Aladdin said, “When you have walked 
here a little longer perhaps you will not walk 
so bravely.” There was an obscure smile on his 
lips as he said this. 

But Everychild replied quickly, “Oh, yes, I 
shall. You see, I shall remember my friends.” 

“Your friends?” asked Aladdin. 

“Father Time, for one. I wish you could 
have seen how he took my part!” 

Aladdin nodded slowly. “I am hoping he will 
be a friend to me some day,” he said. 

“And then there is the Masked Lady,” con- 
tinued Everychild. 

“The Masked Lady?” repeated Aladdin in a 
puzzled tone. 

“She lent me her sword.” 

But Aladdin mused darkly until his eyes rested 
upon his lamp. “I’d rather persons didn’t wear 

25 


EVERYCHILD 


masks — of any sort,” he said. “Sometimes they 
are dangerous enemies.” 

He seemed so troubled as he said this that 
Everychild asked him, “But you, Aladdin — ^why 
are you making a journey on the Road of 
Troubled Children?” 

“I?” replied Aladdin in surprise. “Why, be- 
cause I am the most troubled child of all!” 

Everychild could scarcely believe this. “And 
yet,” he said, “with your wonderful lamp you 
have only to wish for things, and they are yours!” 

Aladdin made ready to tell his story. He ad- 
justed himself more comfortably on the Oriental 
rug, and at last he sighed deeply. “The child 
who has everything is never happy,” he said. 

Everychild simply could not believe this ; and 
Aladdin read the disbelief in his eyes. 

“It is true,” he said. “Having everything you 
wish for is like having more money than any one 
else. And in such a case, how could one be 
happy? How many things would be denied one ! 
— ^pleasant solitude, simple friendships, even a 
good name. Those who had too little would envy 

you and hate you; and if you sought to relieve 
26 


EVERYCHILD ANB ALADDIN 


their distress they would hate you more than ever 
in their hearts, because you would have degraded 
them. You would have to be a spendthrift, which 
is vulgar, or you would have to be a miser, which 
is mean. There is an old saying in Chinese . . . 
how shall I put it in your language? Runnings 
fleet, unpampered feet. You see? The rich have 
pampered feet. At best they tread soft places. 
No, it is an evil thing to have too much. I would 
that the lamp had never been mine.” 

“If it were mine,” said Everychild, uncon- 
vinced, “I think I should be happy.” 

“To be happy,” said Aladdin, “means to want 
something and believe you are going to get it 
after awhile. But when you’ve got everything 
it is a good deal worse than not having anything. 
Because there’s nothing left for you to wish for. 
And wishing for things is really the greatest 
pleasure in the world.” 

“But to wish for things, and never to get 
them?” said Everychild, deeply puzzled. 

“Let me explain,” said Aladdin. “I remember 
when I was a little boy in Peking there came a 
spring when I wanted a kite. Oh, how I longed 
27 


EVERYCHILD 

for a kite! And my mother said, ‘Never mind, 
Aladdin. When your uncle comes back from 
Arabia, where he has gone with the camel train, 
perhaps he will bring you a kite!’ And I was 
very happy all the spring and summer, thinking 
I should have a kite when my uncle came back 
from the camel train. And it was not until the 
next year, when I no longer cared very much 
about having a kite, that I learned how my uncle 
had died in the desert, quite early in the spring 
the year before.” 

“And then,” asked Everychild, “were you not 
unhappy?” 

“No. You see, by that time I had begun to 
wish for something else. This time it was a pair 
of little doves which a merchant had brought 
from far away in the Himalaya mountains. And 
I dreamed by day and night of the time when I 
should own the little doves. No coin was too 
small to be saved. The little coins would become 
as much as a yen in time. And at last I was the 
proud possessor of a yen!” 

“And then you got the little doves?” 

28 


EVERYCHILD AND ALADDIN 


“No. By that time I cared more for the yen 
than for the little doves — and besides, the doves 
had died.” 

“But with the — ^the yen, you could buy some- 
thing else you wanted,” suggested Everychild. 

“Not so. By that time I coveted some ivory 
chessmen, worth many yen. And I was very 
happy, planning how some day I should become 
rich enough to buy the ivory chessmen.” 

“But if you only kept on wishing for things,” 
murmured Everychild, “and never got them, 
you’d of course become very unhappy some day!” 

But Aladdin slowly shook his head. “I cannot 
tell how it may be,” he said. “But my poor 
mother was always happy, and she never really 
got what she wished for, unless it Was the last 
thing of all.” 

“And that?” inquired Everychild. 

“One thing led to another, in her case ; and the 
last thing she wished for was heaven. And then 
she died.” 

A great wind roared through the forest and 
died away in a sigh. 

Presently Aladdin spoke again: “And another 
29 


EVERYCHILD 


great trouble about getting what you wish for 
is that in most cases when you get a thing you 
find that you didn’t really want it, after all. It 
proves to be not quite what you thought it; or 
else it came too late.” 

This statement was completed in so mournful 
a tone that Everychild felt constrained to say, 
‘‘Why shouldn’t you throw the lamp away, if it 
makes you unhappy?” 

“It isn’t possible,” was Aladdin’s rejoinder. 
“There is only one way in which I can be rid of 
it, and I haven’t been able to find that way as 
yet.” 

Everychild was so greatly puzzled by this 
statement that Aladdin explained: “I can never 
be rid of the lamp save on one condition. When 
I have wished for the best thing of all the lamp 
will disappear and I may rejoice in the thought 
that it will never be mine again.” 

“The best thing of all?” mused Everychild. 

“You see how difficult it is. Who can tell what 
is the best thing of all? And so I must go on 
owning the lamp and being unhappy.” 

But Everychild found much of this simply be- 

30 


EVERYCHILD AND ALADDIN 


wildering. “Just the same,” he said after a 
pause, “it must be very nice to have a lamp to 
rub, so that you may have so many things you 
really want.” 

He immediately regretted having said this; for 
Aladdin took up his lamp. “Very well,” he said, 
placing the lamp in Everychild’s hands. And 
there was a malicious gleam in his slanting eyes 
as he added, “Suppose you make a wish. But I 
charge you! — ^think twice before you wish.” 

Everychild could not take back his words ; and 
besides, he was tempted. He touched the lamp 
with trembling fingers. He rubbed it, hoping 
that Aladdin would not laugh at him for being 
awkward or inexperienced. And sure enough, 
the genie of the lamp appeared. 

Everychild became quite dumb. He cast an 
appealing glance at Aladdin. “Won’t you make 
a wish?” he begged. “After all, it’s very hard, 
knowing what to wish for.” 

“It is,” admitted Aladdin. “No, I’ll not make 
a wish. It was you who summoned the genie. 
You shall make your own wish 1” 

At this Everychild glanced at the genie as if 
SI 


EVERYCHILD 

in search of assistance. But he received no en- 
couragement at all. The genie really looked like 
a person who had come to bring evil rather than 
good. And Everychild felt his heart pounding 
painfully, and his head throbbing. But at last a 
happy thought occurred to him. He might make 
a very little wish ! 

‘Tt is getting dark,” he said to the genie, trying 
to speak as if he were thoroughly experienced in 
making wishes. ‘T wish I had a nice place to 
sleep, here in the forest.” 

He had scarcely spoken when he realized that 
he was all alone: Aladdin with his Oriental rug 
and his lamp was gone ; the genie was gone. His 
hand was resting upon something very soft and 
cool. It seemed like a carpet, though finer than 
any carpet he had ever seen. And he remembered 
how his mother had scolded him more than once 
for lying on the carpet at home. 

“But no one will scold me for lying here,” he 
refiected. 

So it came about that on his first night away 
from home he slept on the beautiful green carpet, 
with the Road of Troubled Children hard by. 


EVERYCHILD AND ALADDIN 


And he could not know tljat the thing he had 
wished for, and which had been given him, was 
the very thing which poor beggars, beloved of 
God, are granted every tranquil summer night. 


CHAPTER IV 


EVERYCHILD IS JOINED BY HANSEL AND 
GRETTEL 

I N the morning he went on his way along the 
Road of Troubled Children; and it seemed to 
him that he had gone a very great distance when 
he heard voices by the roadside. They were the 
voices of children, and it was plain to Everychild 
that they were in trouble. 

He waited until they came close, and then his 
heart bounded, because he recognized them. He 
had often seen their pictures. They were Hansel 
and Grettel. 

Hansel was saying sorrowfully, ‘T am afraid 
they are all gone, Grettel, and we shall never 
be able to find our home again.” 

It was then that Everychild stepped forward. 
“I know you,” he said, trying to seem really 
friendly. ^"You are Hansel and Grettel, Your 
parents lost you in the woods to be rid of you — 
because there wasn’t enough to eat at home.” 

34 


HANSEL AND GRETTEL 

Hansel and Grettel looked at each other with 
round eyes. “It is true,” they replied in unison. 
“But jEo think it should have got about already! 
Who are you?” 

Everychild addressed himself to Hansel — ^who, 
by the way, was a fat boy with wooden shoes 
and a tiny homespim jacket and trousers of 
the same stuff, the trousers being very floppy 
about the ankles. “I am Everychild,” he said. 
“And if I were you I’d not try to go home to 
such a father and mother. You know, they 
still had half a loaf left.” 

“At least,” said Hansel, “I’d like to go home 
until that half a loaf is gone!” 

For a second Grettel looked at her brother 
as if she really could not think of a suitably severe 
rebuke. “Our poor father and mother!” she ex- 
claimed. “No doubt they thought we should find 
food in the forest, or that we should encounter 
travelers who’d have a bite to spare.” 

“At any rate,” said Everychild, “it’s no use 
your searching any more. You’re looking for 

the crumbs you dropped, so you’d find the way 
35 


EVERYCHILD 


home. But I should think you could guess the 
birds had eaten them all up !” 

Hansel turned to Grettel, his eyes more round 
than ever. “It must be true!” he exclaimed. 

“Where you made your mistake was in not 
dropping pebbles, the way you did the first time 
— ^though I suppose you couldn’t have got the 
pebbles, being locked up in your room the night 
before. Anyway, it’s no use your trying to go 
back. Even if you found the way, the same 
thing would happen again. Your father made 
a great mistake when he agreed to lose you the 
first time, simply because^ your mother asked him 
to. You know what the book says: ‘If a man 
yields once he’s done for.’ You’d much better go 
along with me.” 

Hansel became all curiosity at once. “Where 
to?” he asked. 

Everychild undertook to reply quite frankly; 
but all of a sudden he became dumb. It had 
seemed to him that he knew very well where he 
was going. Even now he felt that the answer 
ought to be perfectly simple. Just the same, he 
could not think of a single word ! 

36 



“You are Hansel and (irettel.” 












- \ 


* 4 



•i 

11 






HANSEL AND GRETTEL 

Then he heard a voice behind him. “He has set 
forth on a quest of Truth!” said the voice. 

That was it, of course! He turned gratefully 
— and there was the Masked Lady ! She seemed 
to be smiling to herself, as if she had thought 
of something which amused her. But on the 
whole her manner was really friendly and seri- 
ous. 

Nevertheless, Everychild was not at all sure 
that he was glad to see her. The mask she wore 
really did give her a very strange appearance. 
Still, he faced Hansel with a certain proud bear- 
ing. “That is it,” he said. 

And then he turned about again to look at 
the Masked Lady, for he had noted that there 
was something strange about her appearance. 
She had left her spinning wheel somewhere. Now 
she carried the crook of a shepherdess. One hand 
rested lightly on the limb of a tree. And there 
were sheep not far away. Some were lying on 
the grass resting; and some were moving about, 
their eyes and noses seemingly very much alive — 
and their tails. They wiggled their tails with 
the greatest energy. 


37 


EVERYCHILD 

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” said Every- 
child. 

The Masked Lady replied, again with that 
queer smile about her lips, ‘T am very often 
near when you think I am far away.” 

And then Everychild perceived another person 
standing not far from the Masked Lady : a httle 
man wearing large spectacles and thread-bare 
clothes. He was looking at nothing whatever 
save a note-book which he carried in his hand, 
and he was scribbling intently. Occasionally he 
lifted his hand high and touched the note-book 
with his pencil, and drew the pencil away with a 
precise movement. This was when he was mak- 
ing a period. 

“And the — ^the gentleman,” said Everychild. 
“Is he somebody who belongs to you?” 

The Masked Lady seemed surprised by this 
question, until she perceived the little man with 
the note-book. Then she replied lightly — “Oh — 
him! That’s Mr. Literal. No, he doesn’t belong 
with me. Quite the contrary. Though I believe 
he likes to be seen in my company.” 

Everychild stared at the little man called Mr. 

S8 


HANSEL AND GRETTEL 


Literal. “I don’t like his looks at all,” he ad- 
mitted. “Maybe he’ll go away after awhile?” 

The Masked Lady aroused herself slightly. “I 
can tell you something about him,” she said. 
“He’s ... you know the kind of boy who is 
forever tagging along — when you want to go 
anywhere, I mean? Who is forever disagreeing 
with you, and wanting things done in a different 
way? Who winds up by tattling? A tattle-tale 
I think perhaps you call it.” 

Every child nodded his head. “You mean a 
snitch?” he asked. 

The Masked Lady flinched a httle, though 
she smiled too. “Is that the word?” she asked. 
“Well, I’ve no doubt it’s as good as another. If 
you like you may think of Mr. Literal as a — a 
snitch.” 

The little man made a period on his note-book 
and drew his pencil away with a precise move- 
ment. He looked at the Masked Lady with a 
smug smile. “That word snitch/^ he said. “It’s 
entirely out of place, you know — after you’ve 
once introduced Aladdin and Hansel and Grettel 
in your story. And a giant. It’s slang, and it 
39 


EVERYCHILD 

came into use long after the race of giants be- 
came extinct.” 

The Masked Lady replied calmly: “The race 
of giants has never become extinct.” 

Mr. Literal had not ceased to smile in his smug 
fashion. “Ah, well,” he said; and he began to 
scribble again, and while he did so he wandered 
away. You’d have said he had not the slightest 
idea where he was. He had not even seen Hansel 
and Grettel! 

Everychild looked after the retreating Mr. 
Literal until he remembered suddenly that he had 
asked Hansel and Grettel to go along with him. 
Then he heard Grettel say in a really eager voice : 
“A quest of Truth! That sounds very interest- 
ing to me!” 

But Hansel had to spoil it all by saying: “It 
would sound more interesting to me if he said 
he was looking for something to eat.” 

Grettel said, “Oh, Hansel!” in such a tone 
that Everychild regarded her more closely. She 
was really quite charming in her wooden shoes, 
and her ample blue skirt, somewhat short, and 
her waist of terra-cotta color, with white sleeves. 

40 


HANSEL AND GRETTEL 


She had on a linen cap shaped somewhat like a 
sunbonnet. She turned to her brother and spoke 
with a good deal of emphasis. “Anyway, it’s 
plain you’ll not find any sausages growing on the 
trees. For my part, I’d rather go somewhere. 
Especially since we’ve got a nice boy to go with 
us. Anything would be better than spending 
another night in the woods. I simply don’t be- 
lieve I could bear it. The noises . . . there’s 
something dreadful about the noises, when you 
can’t bar a door between you and them.” 

Hansel grunted very inelegantly. “Noises!” 
he retorted. “That’s just like a girl. The only 
noise that bothers me is the rumbling of my in- 
sides. I’m hungry/^ 

Grettel closed her eyes as if this were really 
too much. She seemed unable to think of a word 
to say. 

Then Hansel said to Everychild: “I don’t 
mind going with you. Only, you’ll have to let 
Grettel go along too and you can’t go very far 
with a girl without something happening.” 

“Of course, she’d go along,” said Everychild. 

41 


EVERYCHILD 


“As for something happening, it might be some- 
thing nice more likely than not.” 

At this Grettel clasped her hands in ecstacy. 
“What a nice boy!” she exclaimed. 

But Hansel only gave her a lofty look. “I 
haven’t seen him do anji;hing great,” he said. 
“Now, if he could show us something to eat . . .” 

“At least,” said Grettel, “he wants to keep on 
going, while you’re all for turning back. I think 
he speaks very sensibly.” And she came for- 
ward with a pretty blush on her cheeks and took 
a seat demurely by Everychild’s side. 

She was really startled when Hansel, in his 
most offensive voice, exclaimed — “Grettel! Don’t 
you know you’re not allowed to sit on the ground 
in your best dress?” 

But she managed to say, with a certain amount 
of independence, “Oh, Hansel — as if anything 
mattered now! Don’t you see that if we’re not 
going back we’ll have to make rules for ourselves 
from now on ? I’ve always wanted to do whatever 
I pleased in my best dress, and I’m not going to 
miss the chance now!” 

Hansel looked knowingly at Everychild, and 

42 


HANSEL AND GRETTEL 


jerked his head toward Grettel. “Females!” he 
said. “That’s why you have to sit on them. 
They’re like kites. Once you let them go they’re 
over in the next field standing on their heads.” 

But Everychild thought he should rather talk 
to Grettel. He looked at her with a smile, and 
immediately she began to pluck at her skirt and 
pat her hair and look at him out of a corner of* 
her eye. He said : “It was good of your parents, 
wasn’t it, to put your best clothes on you when 
they meant to lose you?” 

She replied promptly: “I should have thought 
it very mean of them if they hadn’t.” 

Hansel seemed to agree with his sister for once ; 
and he added to what she had said, “And you’ll 
notice they didn’t put any bread and cheese in 
the pockets, so far as anybody can find out.” 

But Grettel threw her hands up and permitted 
her head to wilt over on one side. “There! We 
might just as well be going,” she said. “Hansel 
never has a decent word to say. When he’s hun- 
gry he growls ; and when he’s eaten he nods. For 
my part, it would be a relief to see him nod 
awhile. Come, let’s be getting along !” 

43 


CHAPTER V 


A DASHING YOUTH IN THE FOREST 

A nd so they set forth along the road. 

They had not gone far, however, when 
they espied a youth crossing the road before 
them. 

It could be seen at once that he was on a very 
important mission, and Everychild said to his 
companions, “Perhaps we ought not to disturb 
him. Let us wait, and it may be that he will cross 
the road and go on his way.” 

But the youth did not do this. He had heard 
the children approaching, and he remained stand- 
ing in the road, waiting for them to come up. 

Grettel was already looking at the youth out 
of the corner of her eye and smiling. 

“I’m going to speak to him,” declared Hansel. 
“Hansel!” exclaimed Grettel; “we mustn’t dis- 
turb him!” And she glanced at Everychild for 
44 


IN THE FOREST 


approval — ^though she hastily turned again so 
that she was observing the strange youth out of 
the corner of her eye, and she smiled more invit- 
ingly than ever. 

‘T don’t care!” retorted Hansel. “He looks 
like a rich man’s son, and he might tell us where 
we could get something to eat.” 

Just then the strange youth began to approach 
them with a proud air. He was really very hand- 
some. He was very sturdy, and he was clothed 
smartly in a velvet jacket and knee breeches. A 
fine cloak fell loosely from his shoulders. He 
wore a plumed hat and carried a sword. 

As he drew near Hansel said: “Hello! Have 
they been trying to lose you too?” 

It was then that Everychild recognized the 
strange youth as Jack the Giant Killer; and at 
the same time he heard Grettel whispering: 
“How handsome he is!” 

Jack the Giant Killer replied smilingly to 
Hansel; “Lose me? Not at all! It’s plain you 
don’t know who I am.” He touched his breast 
lightly with his forefinger. “I am J ack the Giant 
Killer.” He then brought his heels together and 
45 


EVERYCHILD 

removed his hat with a wide gesture, and made 
a fine bow. 

“I recognized you,” said Everychild, “though 
I didn’t know you lived in this neighborhood. I 
mean, near Hansel and Grettel.” 

Jack replied with a certain neat air: “I don’t 
live anywhere in particular. Did you never hear 
of my seven-league boots? I have a way of bob- 
bing up wherever there are any giants.” 

In the meantime Grettel had sat down on a 
grassy bank beside the road. “It’s very tire- 
some, walking,” she said And then, very politely 
(to Jack), “Won’t you sit down?” 

He accepted this invitation, and Everychild 
and Hansel also sat down. 

Grettel sighed and said: “I’d like so much to 
hear about your fights with the giants. It must 
be wonderful to know how to fight.” 

Jack could not help saying “Ho — ^hum!” in 
a rather bored way, though he politely placed his 
hand over his mouth. “There’s nothing great 
about it,” he said, “when you’re fixed for it. I’ve 
my seven-league boots, and my invisible cloak, 
and my sword of sharpness. You can’t help 
46 


IN THE FOREST 

winning with them. Of course, there’s my wit, 
too.” 

Grettel smiled mysteriously and nodded her 
head. “It’s your wit first of all,” she declared 
knowingly. 

Hansel was pouting. “Your wit?” he said; 
“does it help you to get what you want? If it 
does, I’d like to know about it.” 

Grettel had wriggled herself into a comfortable 
position; but now she sat up stiffly. She put her 
hand over her mouth and whispered, “Please, 
Hansel, don’t say anything about foodr But she 
quickly turned an untroubled face to Jack, who 
was saying: 

“There’s the way I got old Blunderbore, for 
example. You’ve heard about that, haven’t you?” 
And he looked anxiously at all three, one after 
another. 

Everychild and Hansel looked at each other 
dubiously, but Grettel saved the situation by say- 
ing, “It was rather a long time ago. If you’d 
just go over it again ...” 

“That was my most famous piece of work,” 
47 


EVERYCHILD 


said Jack. “You see, I carry a leather pouch 
under my cloak. It’s filled with food ” 

There was an almost violent interruption by 
Hansel. “Food!” he exclaimed. But Grettel 
edged closer to him so that she could tug at his 
sleeve without being seen. 

“Of course!” continued Jack. “Well, one day 
after I’d had dinner with Blunderbore I boasted 
that I could do something he couldn’t do. He 
laughed — and I knew I had him. Says I, ‘Very 
well, I’ll show you. I’m going to rip my stomach 
open without feeling it.’ We’d been eating gin- 
ger-bread, and I’d slipped a piece into my 
pouch.” 

A strange light had come into Hansel’s eyes, 
and he sighed with ecstacy “Ginger-bread !” 

“So,” resumed Jack, “I plunged my knife into 
my pouch hidden under my cloak, and a fine bit 
of ginger-bread tumbled out.” 

Everychild repeated the words— “Into the 
pouch hidden under your cloak.” And Jack con- 
cluded with — 

“Of course — so.” 

He made an expert pass wHh his sword, and 
48 


IN THE FOREST 


instantly a number of red apples and a dozen 
fine tarts rolled from under his cloak and were 
lying there on the grass. 

Without even a hint of ceremony Hansel flung 
himself forward on his stomach and seized upon 
the tarts greedily. 

Even Grettel could not conceal her desire for 
food, and she exclaimed joyously, “Oh, tarts! 
Could I have one?” 

“Why not?” replied Jack lightly; whereupon 
Everychild placed a number of the tarts in her 
lap, and she began to eat heartily. 

“This comes of wearing one’s good dress,” said 
Grettel between tarts. “If I’d been wearing an 
old rag I’d have seen no tricks, that’s certain.” 

Jack regarded her a little curiously. “As I 
was saying,” he resumed, “old Blunderbore 
shouted ‘Pooh-hooi’ at what I had done. That 
was his ugly, boasting way, you know. He jabbed 
his knife into his own stomach to show he wasn’t 
to be outdone — and down he fell, dead as a door- 
nail.” 

Everychild’s heart was beating hard and his 
face wore a troubled expression. “I suppose,” he 
49 


EVERYCHILD 


said after a thoughtful pause, “Blunderbore was 
a very wicked giant — like the Giant Fear?” 

Jack was frankly surprised at this question. 
“A giant is a giant,” he said shortly. 

But the troubled) expression did not leave 
Everychild’s face. What if there were a few 
good giants? — and what if a good giant should 
encounter Jack? 

His reflections were broken in upon by a trium- 
phant voice — ^Jack’s voice — exclaiming, “Here’s 
luck for you! Here’s one of them coming now!” 

It was true. A very large giant was approach- 
ing through the forest. And the strangest part 
of it all was that Everychild knew quite well 
that this was a good giant. His eyes began to 
shine and he was thrilled through and through. 

He had never seen so wonderful a creature: so 
splendid, so powerful, so fascinating. The giant 
seemed almost to tread on air. He held his face 
up so that the sun shone on it. His eyes were 
filled with magic. He wore a wreath of leaves 
about his hair. A garment like a toga fell grace- 
fully from his shoulders. He was shod with 
sandals. He carried his hands before him as if 
50 


IN THE FOREST 


they would gather in the sunshine. A smile half 
sly and half gentle was on his lips. 

Everychild clasped his hands eagerly as he 
gazed at the giant. He seemed to know that 
this splendid stranger would lead him presently, 
and he was not certain whether he should wish 
to be led or not — whether it would be good or evil 
to be led by him. 

His musing and wonder were broken in upon 
by Jack, who was again speaking. “I’ll give you 
a little exhibition of my skill,” he said. “I’ll have 
his life before your very eyes.” 

Everychild became greatly troubled. He could 
not speak for a moment. He could not bear to 
think that the giant should he slain. He even 
ventured to hope that he had no cause for fear 
— that so powerful a creature might be depended 
upon to protect himself. Yet Jack the Giant 
Killer seemed just now a very valiant figure, and 
it was plain that he believed it to be his duty 
to slay the approaching giant. 

It was Grettel who replied to Jack. “Dear 
me!” she exclaimed incredulously, “How shall 
you do it?” 


51 


EVERYCHILD 


“I haven’t thought of a way yet,” was the 
response. “It takes wit, you know. I’ll think 
of a way before long. Don’t speak so loud.” 

“The giant had come quite close to them by this 
time. “Good morning,” he said pleasantly. 

Not one of the children recognized him, and 
Everychild ventured to say, in a polite tone, 
“Good morning . . . though I don’t believe we 
know who you are.” He was thinking: “If he 
will only explain that he is a good giant !” 

“I am known as the giant. Will o’Dreams,” 
was the reply. 

Everychild was charmed by the beauty of his 
voice; but he was startled when Jack cried out 
sternly, — 

“And what are you doing here?” 

The giant regarded Jack with thoughtful eyes. 
“A natural question, I am sure,” he said after a 
pause. “Permit me to say, then, that I have 
merely been looking at a few masterpieces.” 

At this Everychild felt a delightful sense of 
mystery stir within him. The words seemed 
tremendous — and yet he could not think what 
they meant! 


52 


IN THE FOREST 

But Jack the Giant Killer nodded his head 
shrewdly. And almost instantly he said, “Well, 
you’ll look at no more masterpieces — ^whatever 
they are !” 

The giant seemed to be simply amused. “Say 
you so?” he replied. 

Grettel clasped her hands with delight. “How 
suitably he talks !” said she. 

“I do,” said Jack. “You don’t know me, eh? 
I’m Jack the Giant Killer. And you’re just 
about my size.” 

It was here that Everychild interfered. “May- 
be he’s a good giant,” he said to Jack. And to 
the giant he added courteously, “Won’t you sit 
down and rest awhile. Will o’Dreams?” 

“I thank you,” responded the giant; and he 
sat down by the side of Everychild. 

And instantly the thought came to Everychild 
that at whatever cost he must save the splendid 
stranger from that terrible sword of sharpness 
which Jack the Giant Killer was even now draw- 
ing from its scabbard. 


53 


CHAPTER VI 


A FIGHT WHICH WAS STRANGELY ENDED 

TT was plain that Jack was in a determined 
mood. He was no longer seated with the 
others. He drew off a little and capered in a very 
confident manner. For the moment he was con- 
tent to say nothing more to the giant. He had 
drawn his sword ; and now he hopped about, cut- 
ting the heads from tall grasses and tender twigs 
from the trees. 

You would have said that his mind was very 
far away but for the fact that he occasionally 
glanced at the others to see if this or that skil- 
ful pass had been witnessed; and occasionally 
he gazed at the giant in a very stern manner. 

As for the giant, he spoke pleasantly to Every- 
child, asking him whither he was bound; and 
when Everychild replied, quite simply, that he 
had set out in quest of Truth, the giant nodded 
his approval. 


54 


A FIGHT STRANGELY ENDED 


It was Everychild who introduced the sub- 
ject of Jack and the threat he had made. “Maybe 
he’ll not do anything when he finds you’re a good 
giant,” he said; “and anyway, I suppose you’ll 
know how to defend yourself — a big fellow like 
you?” 

He was greatly disturbed by the giant’s reply. 
“I’m a big fellow, yes,” said Will o’Dreams, “and 
I can hold my own with other big fellows. You 
know how to take them. But when you’re a 
giant it seems you don’t know how to take the 
little chaps. I’ve always regarded Jack the 
Giant Killer as a brave and honorable youth. But 
some of the little fellows are hard to handle. 
They’re full of tricks and deceit. I’ve had many 
a tussle in my time ; but when it comes to a fair 
test, give me a man who’s got honest strength — 
who’s ashamed to do mean tricks.” 

Everychild was considering this when he heard 
a voice behind him; and turning his head, he was 
surprised to perceive that the Masked Lady was 
standing there, quite close to him, and that Mr. 
Literal was only a step or two distant. Mr. 

Literal held his note-book before him, and he had 
55 


EVBRYCHILD 


just lifted his hand with a flourish, after putting 
a period after something he had written. It 
was he who was speaking. 

“It’s all very well,” said Mr. Literal to the 
Masked Lady, “for him to be making friends 
with that giant,” and he nodded his head toward 
Everychild and his companion, “but just the 
same, I could wish to see him in better company. 
Look at the giant’s eyes. Visionary eyes. Very 
little precise thinking going on back of a pair of 
eyes like that!” 

The Masked Lady replied quietly: “It’s only 
little creatures who consider precision the first of 
all merits. Let them alone.” 

Everychild’s attention was attracted then by 
Jack, whose manner had suddenly changed and 
who now approached the giant with a mysterious 
smile on his lips. 

“You know,” said Jack, “I was only joking 
awhile ago when I spoke roughly to you.” 

“Ah, it’s all right then,” replied the giant in a 
tone of relief. 

“Yes, I was only joking. Just my way of 

getting acquainted.” And he continued to smile. 

56 


A FIGHT STRANGELY ENDED 

Presently he added meditatively. “A big chap 
like you — it must be wonderful to be as strong 
as you are. The way you ought to be able to 
handle a sword — I suppose you carry a sword, 
of course?” 

“Nothing like it!” replied the giant. 

“You don’t say so! A terrible bludgeon then, 
no doubt?” 

“No. You see, my taste doesn’t run in that di- 
rection. When I’m wishing for power or fame 
I think of . . . it’s a little difficult to explain. 
Wings. I wish for powerful big wings, so that 
time and space couldn’t hold me back.” 

“Wings! That sounds funny!” said Jack. 
“But a sling-shot, at least — of course you carry 
a fine sling-shot around with you?” 

“No, nor a sling-shot.” The giant extended 
his arms with a candid gesture, so that Jack might 
see he was wholly unarmed. 

Then a very amazing thing happened. Jack 
the Giant Killer suddenly uttered a cry of 
triumph. “Fool that you are!” he exclaimed, 
“to confess that you are helpless ! Do you sup- 
pose we are deceived by your make-believe friend- 
57 


EVERYCHILD 


liness? Prepare to dieT And he lowered his 
sword with a swift flourish. 

So terrible was his manner that it seemed the 
giant was really lost. Every one felt this. Grettel 
clasped her hands tensely and a light at once fear- 
ful and eager leaped into her eyes. Hansel drew 
back as if to be out of the way of danger. The 
giant, pale yet unflinching, arose. 

It was then that Everychild, springing to the 
side of the giant, cried out in a ringing tone — 

“Stay!” 

The giant calmly lifted his hand and gazed 
into space; and at that moment, from out the 
depths of the forest, came a commanding voice, 
exclaiming — 

“Jack the Giant Killer! Jack the Giant Kil- 
ler!” 

The voice was distant, yet sonorous and stern. 

Everychild looked to see who it was that had 
spoken: and whom should he behold emerging 
from the forest but Father Time! He carried 
his scythe and sand-glass, and he moved forward 
with majesty, yet with haste. He fixed his gaze 

58 


A FIGHT STRANGELY ENDED 


upon Jack and uttered one more thrilling word 
—“Stop!” 

To Everychild he seemed a changed person 
as he adjusted both his scythe and his sand-glass 
in his left hand and advanced with his right 
hand uplifted. He seemed very stern. His eyes 
traveled from one face to another until at length 
they rested only on Jack. Then upon the shoulder 
of J ack the Giant Killer his hand descended. 

Everychild could scarcely believe his own eyes 
for a moment or two. A tragic change occurred 
in the youth who had been so splendid. 

He had become old and infirm! His clothes 
were in tatters, his form was bent, his sword was 
covered with rust. 

Then Jack — ^trembling and helpless — ^looked 
wonderingly and forlornly at Father Time, 
“what have you done to me?” he asked in a quiv- 
ering voice. 

Father Time replied calmly: “I have laid my 
hand on your shoulder!” 

“Yes — ^but I don’t mean that,” said Jack. 
“Something strange ... my boots: see, they 
have been changed. They were new and wonder- 
59 


EVERYCHILD 

fuL In them I could take steps seven leagues 
long!” 

Father Time replied: “Jack the Giant Killer, 
when I have laid my hand upon you again and 
yet again, you shall possess the true seven-league 
boots. They shall carry you seventy times seven 
leagues — and beyond.” 

“And my invisible cloak — it was rich and fine 
before you came; and now it is ragged.” 

“Jack the Giant Killer, when I have laid my 
hand upon you again and yet again, it shall be 
given to you to wear the true and only invisible 
cloak.” 

Jack looked ruefully at his sword. With a sob 
he exclaimed, “And my sword of sharpness I . . .” 

Father Time replied, “Jack the Giant Killer, 
beneath my touch the sword of sharpness be- 
comes the sword of rust.” 

For an instant Jack searched the faces of the 
others. “Have I no friend here?” he demanded. 
“Will no one take my part?” 

Everychild’s heart was touched with pity; but 
before he could speak Father Time continued: 

“I am your friend. And I bid you go home 
60 


A FIGHT STRANGELY ENDED 


and cultivate those virtues which you know not. 
Be patient, and contentment shall come: a friend 
more unfailing than a strong arm. And hope 
shall come : a friend more fleet than seven-league 
boots. And faith shall be yours: far better rai- 
ment than your cloak which was invisible.” 

But J ack hung his head. “And my beautiful 
sword that was my pride ...” 

To the amazement of all it was the giant, 
Will o’Dreams, who stepped forward to comfort 
Jack. In a voice which was marvelously kind 
he said: 

“I know you for a brave youth. Jack the 
Giant Killer; and as for me, it has been said that 
I am generous. Listen: I alone among all the 
race of giants have power to bid Father Time 
move speedily, or to retrace his steps. Let us 
see what I can do.” 

He solemnly lifted his hand, and Father Time, 
walking backward, disappeared in the forest. 

At that very moment the Masked Lady took a 
step forward, saying in a soft and soothing voice : 

“Jack the Giant Killer, if you will come to me 
with all your heart and place your hand in mine, 
61 


EVERYCHILD 


I can make you beautiful and strong, despite 
all that Father Time has done/’ 

Jack lifted his troubled eyes to hers. “You?” 
he asked. And then he tried to approach her, but 
he had become too infirm. “I cannot!” he cried 
despairingly. 

He would have fallen, but the gentle hand of 
the giant. Will o’Dreams, was instantly about 
him, supporting him. “Let me help,” he said. 

Everychild’s heart was beating loudly. “Let 
me help too!” he cried. “I have always been 
fond of Jack the Giant Killer.” 

Between these two, then, the infirm little old 
man, who had been the gay youth, moved tot- 
teringly toward the Masked Lady. With a slow, 
tremulous gesture he placed his hand in hers, 
which was stretched out to him. 

A miracle! He was instantly the brave and 
gallant youth again, seven-league boots, invisible 
cloak, sword of sharpness and all! 

He lifted his sword with a great shout of joy. 
And then, remembering his manners, he said to 
the Masked Lady, “I thank you, lady!” And to 
Everychild he said, “They shall never be de- 
62 


A FIGHT STRANGELY ENDED 


ceived who put their faith in you.” And to the 
giant, Will o’Dreams, he said, after a solemn 
pause — “It may be that you shall see me fight 
again ; but when that day comes, I shall be fight- 
ing on your side!” 

And so he marched gallantly away into the 
forest. 

It was then that Everychild observed that the 
night was falling. “Perhaps we ought to sleep 
awhile,” he said to his companions. “This seems 
a very nice place, and we may have to go a long 
distance to-morrow.” 

They all found places on the grassy bank, the 
giant Will o’Dreams lying down beside Every- 
child like a true friend. 

They had no sooner taken their places than 
it was really night. Insects in the forest about 
them made a droning sound. A distant bell rang 
faintly. One by one the members of the band 
fell asleep. 

All save Everychild. He alone was wakeful. 
And he knew that the Masked Lady had taken 
a step forward and was looking down at him. 

He lifted himself on his elbow and looked away 
63 


EVERYCHILD 


toward the sky where it appeared through the 
trees. And suddenly he exclaimed. “Oh, wonder- 
ful ! I think I saw a star fall !” 

The Masked Lady spoke to him soothingly: 
“Perhaps. They fall every little while.” 

Everychild had not known this. “Do they?” 
he asked ; “I wonder why?” 

The Masked Lady said, “Perhaps it is so we 
may know that they don’t amount to very much, 
after all.” 

“Not amount to much! But they are worlds, 
aren’t they?” 

“Yes, they are worlds.” 

“Then if they doji’t amount to a great deal, is 
there anything that does?” 

“Nothing but human beings.” 

“Human beings . . . and why do they?” 

“Because every human being — even the most 
obscure or humble or wayward — is a little bit 
of God.” 

Everychild pondered that. It gave him a deep 
feeling of comfort. He gazed away into the 

mysterious sky. He mused, “What a journey I 
64t 


A FIGHT STRANGELY ENDED 

shall have to-morrow, with my new friend by my 
^ side/’ 

He fell asleep repeating the words, “A little bit 
of God — a little bit of God . • 


65 


CHAPTER VII 

THE ADVENTURE OF WILL O’DREAMS 

S CARCELY had he fallen asleep when a 
stealthy figure emerged from the gloom of 
night and sought out the place where Will 
o’Dreams lay sleeping. The stealthy figure 
proved to be none other than Mr. Literal; and 
after he had stood looking down upon the sleep- 
ing band an instant, he kicked the Giant’s foot 
warily. 

The giant was up in an instant. His first 
thought was that his services were needed. There 
was no hint of resentment in his heart; and he 
proved his gentle qualities by moving carefully, 
so that the others would not be disturbed. 

He bent his head above Mr. Literal to hear 
what he had to say. 

“Follow me!” said Mr. Literal coldly; and 
without more ado he turned and led the way into 
66 


WILL O’DREAMS 

the depths of the forest, the giant following him 
wonderingly. 

They came before long to an old house with all 
the blinds drawn save at one window, through 
which the beams of a lamp shone dimly. 

Mr. Literal opened the front door, which 
creaked angrily. He lighted a hall lamp so that 
he and the giant might find their way up a flight 
of stairs in safety. A musty odor filled the giant’s 
nostrils, causing him to wrinkle his nose slightly. 
But he said nothing. 

Up the stairway they proceeded, and into a 
study. It was in this room that a lamp had been 
left burning. 

Mr. Literal approached a table and drew forth 
two chairs. ‘‘Sit down,” he said, still without 
looking at the giant. And Will o’Dreams seated 
himself in one of the chairs and waited for Mr. 
Literal to explain his somewhat peculiar be- 
havior. 

As an immediate explanation did not seem to 
be forthcoming, he employed his spare time in 
looking about the room. There was dust every- 
where, and frayed rugs and faded hangings. But 
67 


EVERYCHILD 


there were a number of busts which were really 
a delight to the eye: of Shakespeare, of Burns, 
of Victor Hugo, of Dickens and of others. And 
there were book cases filled to overflowing with 
books — all dust-covered, as if they had not been 
touched for years. 

Mr. Literal took a seat at last; and for a mo- 
ment there was silence in the room and through- 
out the old house, save that a window rattled 
somewhere in the night breezes. Then Mr. Lit- 
eral leaned forward deliberately, his finger tips 
fitted together and his lips drawn into very prim 
lines. And at last he spoke. 

“Listen to me, Mr. Will Dreams: I know 
you!’' His tone was triumphant, merciless. 

But the giant only nodded politely and said, 
“Very well, Mr. Literal; and I know you, too!” 

“At least,” said Mr. Literal icily, “I do not go 
about under an assumed name !” 

“Nor do I,” replied the other. 

“It is false!” exclaimed Mr. Literal. “I know 
you too well. You are that evil creature. Imag- 
ination.” 

“I am sometimes called so,” admitted the giant 
68 


WILL O’DREAMS 


candidly. “The name has a somewhat formid- 
able sound. I prefer to be known as Will 
o’Dreams — ^that is all.” 

“You are trying to evade the truth,” declared 
Mr. Literal. “Well do you know that if you 
were to make your real name known, honest folk 
would shun you.” 

The giant only waved his hand lightly. “I 
will not argue with you,” he said. 

“But I have something else to say to you,” 
said Mr. Literal. “Your statement to those 
children on the road — ^that was false too.” 

“What statement?” inquired the giant, his 
brows lifting slightly. 

“You informed them that you were looking 
for masterpieces; yet you know well that your 
real purpose was to becloud the young minds of 
those children — ^to turn them from the quest of 
Truth. Dare you deny this?” 

“I do indeed. I assert again; I was looking 
for masterpieces.” 

“Masterpieces indeed! — ^in a forest! There 

are masterpieces” — and he pointed to the book- 
69 


EVERYCHILD 

cases. “But you were not even looking for my 
house.” 

“I was not thinking of books,” admitted the 
giant. 

“I grant, there are other kinds of master- 
pieces,” said Mr. Literal; “but they are not to be 
found in a forest.” 

“Ah, Mr. Literal!” cried the giant. “I would 
that I might open your eyes. Believe me, the 
forest is filled with masterpieces of such perfec- 
tion as the hand of man can never know.” 

“So — ^then name me one!” 

“The tiniest leaf that falls from its stem. Not 
all the human race could duplicate it. The hum- 
blest plant. The human eye has no power to take 
in all its marvels. And as for the trees — what 
has the world produced that can match them?” 

Mr. Literal was flushing uncomfortably. 
“That is a large boast,” he said. “The world 
has produced Karnac; it has produced the Petit 
Trianon, and St. Peter’s and St. Paul’s.” 

“But my dear sir,” cried the giant warmly, 
“cannot you see that the most labored structure 
of man is crude and clumsy and artificial, when 

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WILL O’DREAMS 


compared with any tree in all the world ? Houses 
are dead, pathetic things. They begin to decay 
the moment they are built. Rightly seen they 
are hideous, save when they are considered in 
relation to some simple human need. They keep 
the wind and rain away — ^for which, God knows, 
we should be the better sometimes. They have no 
beauty save the spirit of human striving that 
is within them — and that too often is a tarnished 
thing. But a tree! There are fairies imder the 
trees, truly I True aspirations hover about them, 
and beautiful dreams.” He lowered his voice 
and said reverently, “The Holy Spirit is all 
about them.” 

“They are simply trees,” said Mr. Literal 
harshly. 

“Yes,” agreed the giant, nodding and smiling, 
“they are simply trees.” 

But Mr. Literal hitched his chair forward 
angrily. “We are talking nonsense,” he de- 
clared. “It is your plan to divert me from my 
purpose. But you shall not do so. Listen: I 
forbid you to associate with those innocent chil- 
dren. You would corrupt them. It shall be my 
71 


EVERYCHILD 


duty to expose you if you do not cease from 
following after them. Do you hear ?” 

The giant bowed his head thoughtfully. “You 
ask too much,” he said. “I know I have done evil 
in my time. But I am repentant. Come, believe 
me when I say that I would be only a friendly 
companion to those children. I would add to 
their innocent joys and take from their sorrows. 
You do not know me, really. I have no wish to 
offend you ; but I tell you you ask too much when 
you bid me turn aside from that pleasant com- 
pany.” 

He arose and turned toward the door. 

“You are warned,” said Mr Literal. “Persist 
in your present course and I shall bring you to 
your knees.” 

“Abandon Everychild?” said the giant mus- 
ingly. And he shook his head. “No,” he said. 
Then, wishing to conciliate the old man, he looked 
about him to where the busts reposed. “They are 
all friends of mine,” he said with a pleasant smile. 

“They are all dead,” said Mr. Literal coldly. 

“What! — Shakespeare dead?” cried the giant 
in amazement. But he did not remain for other 
72 


WILL O’DREAMS 


words. Mr. Literal was staring stupidly at noth- 
ing. He went out into the hall and closed the 
door behind him. He would have descended the 
stairs then, but some one brushed against him 
lightly and whispered, “Why do you waste your 
time in there?” 

“I went in against my will,” said the giant. 

The stranger said in glad tones, “I know you 
well.” 

The giant replied, “My name is Will 
o’Dreams.” 

“Yes, yes,” said the other. “My name is Will, 
too. Though certain well-meaning persons have 
always preferred to refer to me as William. I 
used to write plays, you know.” 

The giant gazed at him in the dim light. “Of 
course,” he said. 

“I used to live beside the Avon,” said the other. 

The giant’s heart grew soft. “It is a beautiful 
stream,” he said. “And children play along its 
banks, just as in the old days, and men and 
women passing that way are the happier because 
you once dwelt there.” 

But the other held up a cautioning finger. His 
73 


EVERYCHILD 


eyes twinkled mischievously in the dim light. 
“Not so loud,” he said. “Old Mr. Literal will 
hear you — and you know he doesn’t know I am 
here!” 

They parted then ; and the giant went back to 
his place where the children lay asleep. 


74 


PART II 


ARGUMENT : EVERYCHILD PITIES THE SORROWS OF 
CINDERELLA AND REJOICES IN HER RELEASE 

FROM bondage; he encounters a dog that 

LOOKS UPON HIM WITH FAYOR. 


















CHAPTER VIII 

A PURSUIT IN THE DARK 

E VERYCHILD thought perhaps he had 
been asleep a long time when he was awak- 
ened by the sound of a clock in a distant tower 
striking the hour of 1. He became quite wide 
awake. 

He looked to his right and to his left. Hansel 
and Grettel were on one side of him, sleeping 
deeply. Hansel was even snoring. The giant, on 
his other side, lay motionless. 

He looked to see if the Masked Lady had re- 
mained near him, but she was nowhere to be seen. 
Mr. Literal also had disappeared. 

Then he sat up suddenly, his heart thumping 
loudly. There was the sound of hurrying feet on 
the road nearby. And there was something 
about the sound . . . you could tell that it was 
some one who was lost, or in trouble. Presently 
there was a sound of weeping too. 

77 


EVERYCHILD 


Everychild sat with his hands clasped about 
his knees, staring at the road: and before long, 
there she was — a girl running as if she were in 
great peril. And as she drew nearer Everychild 
felt quite sure he knew who the girl was. He 
could not be sure how he knew. But a name 
came into his mind, and he said to himself, “It is 
Cinderella.” 

She raced past him as if she were a leaf caught 
in the wind. Again he heard her weeping. And 
then, without at all knowing what he intended 
to do, he sprang to his feet and dashed down the 
road after her. It would be fine to speak to her, 
he thought. And besides, it seemed almost cer- 
tain that she needed help. 

But it was amazing how fast she could run. 
He thought: “That’s the kind of a girl you would 
like to play with — a girl who can run like that.” 

Still, he hoped she would become tired before 
long, so that he might overtake her. After all, 
it was rather uncomfortable, pursuing her in 
the dark. His own feet made a fearful noise — a 
ghostly patter which awoke the night echoes. 
Moreover, certain wild creatures of the forest 
78 


A PURSUIT IN THE DARK 


were disturbed. An owl dashed from its branches 
overhead and went sailing down the avenues of 
the forest. A rabbit, sitting on a little hummock, 
dropped its forefeet to the ground and went 
prancing away, to wheel presently and look at 
the road suspiciously. 

‘T’ll never overtake her,” thought Everychild. 
He could just see her now: a mere blur in the 
shadows far ahead of him. He could no longer 
hear the sound of her feet. Then quite sud- 
denly she disappeared. 

Had she fallen? Had she hidden behind a 
tree? Was she afraid of him? 

He ran more softly. If she were hiding he 
must not frighten her. If he could only speak to 
her once she would know very well that she need 
not fear him. 

But when he came to the spot where she had 
disappeared he perceived immediately that she 
had not hidden. At this point a path turned away 
from the road, and it seemed clear that she had 
taken the path. 

The path led into a deeper forest. It became 
very silent and black. He could barely see the 
79 


EVERYCHILD 


path beneath his feet. And it seemed to him that 
he was now all surrounded by living, hidden crea- 
tures, who knew that he was passing. But he 
could not feel that Cinderella was anywhere near 
him. 

The path turned into a lane, and the lane en- 
tered a region where there were vague fields on 
either side, fields in which things had been 
planted. And then he stopped suddenly, not 
knowing whether he should continue on his way, 
or return to his companions by the side of the 
road. He had discerned a house before him, 
standing on the top of a hill. And although it 
was very late, a single light burned in one of 
its windows. 

For just a moment he refiected; and then he 
continued on his way, in the direction of that 
lighted window. 


80 


CHAPTER IX 


CINDERELLA AT HOME 

F or just a few moments let us enter that 
house of the lighted window, that we may 
witness certain strange happenings. 

We come into an immense, old-fashioned 
kitchen or scullery. 

A candle burned on a mantel, sending its tran- 
quil light out into the room and creating ghostly 
shadows. Under the mantel, in the deepest 
shadows of all, andirons and a crane seemed to 
be slinking back as if they were hiding. 

In the center of the room there was a rough 
wooden table. Over against the wall, near the 
door which opened to the highway, stood a grand- 
father’s clock, ticking severely, as if it were dis- 
satisfied with the way things were going in the 
house. There were a number of other doors 
visible, all closed as if they were saying, “This is 
81 


EVERYCHILD 

an orderly house, and everybody has gone to bed, 
of course!” 

But everybody hadn’t gone to bed! Over be- 
yond the wooden table, against the wall, there was 
a bed, and there was nobody in it. Moreover, 
there was a figure seated at the wooden table: 
the figure of a woman, who silently polished the 
spoons which were scattered before her. She had 
already scoured certain pots and pans which were 
piled in a heap near her hand. 

Suddenly the strange happenings began. 

A mouse appeared among the pots and pans 
on the table. It sat an instant, with alert eyes and 
fidgety nose and whiskers, and then it scrambled 
down the leg of the table and crossed the floor 
in the direction of the grandfather’s clock. An 
instant later there it was again, climbing up the 
white face of the clock! 

The clock ticked more severely than ever. 

The mouse disappeared amid the works of the 
clock: and presto! The clock loudly struck one. 

The mouse darted into sight again, slipping 
down across the face of the clock. Then it dis- 
appeared. 


82 


CINDERELLA AT HOME 


The vibrations of the clock, filling the room as 
with a great clamor, slowly died away. 

Then there was another sound : a nervous rat- 
tling of the latch on the door opening to the 
highway. The door opened rather abruptly, and 
Cinderella, panting and pale, stood on the thresh- 
old. 

For an instant she seemed afraid to enter; 
yet plainly she was also afraid to remain standing 
there on the threshold. She glanced swiftly about 
the room and then she entered and closed the 
door sharply behind her. She stood for a moment, 
panting and leaning against the door. 

There was something very strange about her ; 
for although she was weary and frightened, and 
clad in the shabbiest old dress imaginable, her 
face nevertheless shone with rapture. 

N eed I tell you what had occurred to her ? She 
had forgotten what the good fairy had told her 
about coming home before one o’clock; and as a 
result her coach-and-four and her coachman had 
been changed back to what they had originally 
been: a pumpkin, a rat, and four mice. What a 
disaster! 


83 


EVERYCHILD 


Yet after she had stood against the door long 
enough to catch her breath she advanced into 
the room, thrusting her arms upward and for- 
ward as if she were embracing a lovely vision. 
Her eyes burned with a glorious light. 

She had not seen the figure at the table, bend- 
ing over the spoons. It was plain that in im- 
agination she was seeing something far different. 
And then she uttered these words (to nobody at 
alll) : 

“Oh, the wonder of it, the wonder of it!” 

Then something else happened. One of the 
inner doors opened and a young lady stood cran- 
ing her neck so that she could look into the room. 
She stood so an instant, and then she was joined 
by another young lady, and both came into the 
room. 

They were both simply glorious in party- 
frocks, though on the skirt of one the ruffles had 
been bunched clumsily, and the bodice of the 
other was slightly twisted. 

They were Cinderella’s sisters. 

The first sister had opened the door just in 
time to hear what Cinderella said; and now she 

84 


CINDERELLA AT HOME 

rather cleverly imitated Cinderella’s words and 
manner — 

“ ‘Oh, the wonder of it !’ The wonder of what?” 

For a moment longer Cinderella gazed into 
space, her eyes holding a glorious vision. Then, 
lowering her gaze and observing her sisters, she 
said, a little less fervently, “Oh . . . every- 
thing!” 

The second sister now spoke. There was a 
pitying note in her voice as she said to the first 
sister, if she had the slightest idea of any- 
thing as wonderful as the things we've seen!" 

To which the first sister replied with a sigh — 
“Poor Cinderella!” 

But Cinderella only turned away from them 
that she might hide the secret in her eyes. She 
sat down before the fireplace, and the two sisters 
seated themselves on either side of her. None of 
theni had taken the slightest notice of the figure 
at the wooden table in the middle of the room. 

Cinderella seemed to be dreaming again, while 
the two sisters were plainly overflowing with ex- 
citement. They glanced at each other across 

85 


EVERYCHILD 


Cinderella as if to say, “Shall we tell her?” And 
each nodded eagerly to the other. 

Then said the second sister: “It is we who have 
seen the truly wonderful things, Cinderella.” 

“Yes,” said Cinderella dreamily, “I know.” 

Said the first sister: “But you don’t know — 
not the half. You know we’ve been to the ball, 
but you don’t know what happened there.” 

Cinderella leaned forward, resting her cheeks 
in her hands. Her sisters could not see her eyes. 
“Tell me what happened,” she said. 

“The most wonderful princess came to the 
ball,” said the first sister. “Quite a stranger — 
not a soul knew her. She was a sensation.” 

The second sister could scarcely wait to add, 
“The loveliest creature ever seen!” 

Cinderella looked at her sisters now, one after 
the other. Her eyes seemed to caress them. “Ah, 
tell me about her,” she said. 

Said the first sister : “She first came last night 
— and then again to-night. She eame late, from 
nobody knew where* in an equipage the like of 
which was never seen before. She came late and 
left early.” 


86 


CINDERELLA AT HOME 


Cinderella forgot herself a little. “Yes, I 
know,” she said, “but where ” 

“How should you know?” demanded the sec- 
ond sister sharply. 

Cinderella hastened to say, “I mean — ^tell me 
more about her.” 

It was the first sister’s turn to speak. “We 
could never describe her,” she said. “Her eyes — 
they were like certain bright flowers shining in 
the dusk . . .” 

“Oh, were they!” cried Cinderella softly. 

And now the second sister said, “And her form 
— it was like a young poplar tree in the 
wind ...” 

“Oh, how good of you to tell me !” cried Cinder- 
ella. 

The first sister could scarcely wait to say, “And 
her dress — ^it was like dew on the grass!” 

Cinderella brought her hands together with 
rapture. “Was it truly?” she asked. 

“Quite like it,” said the first sister. “And her 
hair and cheeks — ^they were — ^they were like 
yours, poor Cinderella, only of course much more 
beautiful!” 


87 


EVERYCHILD 


Cinderella’s hands were still clasped. “Oh, 
much more beautiful, I know!” she murmured 
softly. 

Then a silence fell upon all the sisters. Cinder- 
ella clasped her hands about her knees and gazed 
dreamily into the fireplace. Her sisters stole 
pitying glances at her. They noted her wretched 
dress, and gentle regret shone in their eyes. 

At length the first sister said generously, “You 
know, Cinderella, we should be very glad to have 
you go places with us and have a good time, too, 
if mother ” 

But the second sister interrupted dutifully, “If 
it were the custom for the younger sister to be 
treated like the older sisters.” 

Cinderella nodded. “I know it is a custom — 
that’s all,” she said. “Maybe my turn will come 
when you’ve both got good husbands and fine 
establishments of your own.” 

The two sisters arose. The first began to yawn 
loudly; but remembering her manners she patted 
her lips with her finger tips, changing the yawn 
into a smile. She advanced toward the door 
by which she had entered. The second sister 
88 


CINDERELLA AT HOME 

made as if to follow her, but turned for a final 
word. 

“It’s lovely of you not to be jealous of us, 
Cinderella,” she said. “I hope your turn will 
come, too. Good-night.” 

Cinderella had already relapsed into her 
dreamy mood. “Good-night,” she called. And 
she continued to sit and gaze into the fireplace. 

But suddenly she started up excitedly and 
turned about. She fixed her gaze upon the door 
opening to the highway. Her left hand moved 
unconsciously to her heart. 

Some one was timidly knocking on the door! 

She stood for a moment as if to make sure 
that she had not dreamed that some one had 
knocked. It was very late, and the house was 
in a lonely spot. Then she advanced, marveling 
yet unafraid, and removed the bar from before 
the door. 

The door opened quietly and Everychild stood 
on the threshold. 


89 


CHAPTER X 


CINDERELLA’S DECISION 

E VERYCHILD’S eyes beamed with delight. 

“Then you did come to this house,” he said. 
“I thought you did; but you ran so fast — I 
couldn’t be sure where you went.” It is true that 
he was breathing quickly, but he was perfectly 
happy. 

Cinderella stood regarding him, two finger tips 
pressed against her cheek. “Have I — have I 
ever met you before?” she asked wonderingly. 

He did not really reply to this. “I was be- 
side the road with my companions,” he said. “We 
were lying down. I saw you hurry by. I could 
tell something was the matter. I followed you. 
I hope you don’t mind !” 

She regarded him dubiously. “You look like a 
very nice boy,” she said. “But it’s fearfully late 
for you to be out’ or for me to ask you to come 
in. Still ” 


90 


CINDERELLA’S DECISION 


“Please let me come in,” pleaded Everychild. 
“There’s something I want very much to ask 
you.” 

After a pause she said, “Well, yes, you may 
come in.” She stood aside, watching him with 
a whimsical smile as he advanced into the room. 

He stopped in surprise when he saw the figure 
at the table, bending over the spoons. It was 
the Masked Lady. She had put aside her shep- 
herdess’s crook and had become a house-servant. 
But he was so fuU of the thought of Cinderella 
that he paid little heed to the Masked Lady. 

He sat down in one of the chairs the sisters had 
occupied ; and when Cinderella followed and sat 
down by him he gazed at her intently. 

“Tell me — ^what was it you wished to know?” 
asked Cinderella. 

He had trouble finding the right words; but 
at length he began, “Your mother — does she 
whip you? You know, you were running so, 
and you seemed so frightened . . .” 

Cinderella looked beyond him. She seemed to 
speak to herself rather than to Everychild. “She 
doesn’t whip me,” she said. “If it were only 
91 


EVERYCHILD 


being whipped I shouldn’t mind so much. A 
whipping . . . it’s soon over and little harm 
done. No, she doesn’t whip me.” 

“Or perhaps she tries to lose you,” said Every- 
child. “You were really in a dreadful state, you 
know, as you came running along the road.” 

But Cinderella continued to speak musingly, 
as if to herself. “She doesn’t whip me. But to 
know that you’re never to be praised or loved; 
to have your mother look at you coldly, and say 
nothing — or just to have her pay no attention 
at all, but to act as if a wrong had been done her 
somehow ... a whipping would be easy, com- 
pared with that.” 

Everychild took her up with swift comprehen- 
sion. “I know what you mean,” he declared. 
“Not to have them listen when you speak, as if 
you were in the way . . .” 

Cinderella gazed at him darkly. “Child, what 
do you know of such things?” she demanded. 

Everychild answered simply, “Our mothers 
were like that too. I know what it means.” 

Cinderella said, “Your mothers?” 

92 


CINDERELLA’S DECISION 


“First it was just me,” explained Everychild. 
“And then it was Hansel and Grettel.” 

“Ah, those poor children!” exclaimed Cinder- 
ella. “IVe heard how their parents took them 
out into the woods to lose them. I’m surprised 
they ever went back.” 

“They’re not going back again. They’re going 
with me. With me and the giant and ” 

“But where?” interrupted Cinderella. 

“And you shall go with us,” concluded Every- 
child. “That’s what I wanted to tell you. We’re 
going to find the truth.” 

But this only brought a sad smile to Cinder- 
ella’s lips. “Ah,” she said, “I wonder if it 
would be really wise to do that. Sometimes I 
think our hearts never break until we know the 
whole truth.” 

Everychild could not understand this; and he 
was relieved when the Masked Lady spoke. She 
was still polishing spoons slowly. Now she said, 
without looking up, “Our hearts break when we 
know only half the truth. They are healed when 
all the truth is known.” 


EVERYCHILD 


“Come, it will be great to have you go too,” 
declared Everychild urgently. 

Cinderella slowly relaxed in her chair. She 
rested her chin in her palm and gazed at the 
floor. Her eyes presently took in the fact that 
she had lost a slipper. 

“I don’t see how I could manage it,” she said. 
“I seem to have lost a slipper. One of the pretty 
glass ones. But there, you don’t know about 
that.” She aroused herself and began looking 
about for her old slippers. She looked here and 
there. She found them at last under the bed. 
She took them into her hands and turned them 
over and over, regarding them sadly. Then with- 
out seeming cause she started guiltily and flxed 
her gaze on the door through which her sisters 
had made their entrance and exit. 

“Some one is coming!” she whispered ex- 
citedly. 

Everychild sprang to his feet. 

“It’s my mother, I think,” added Cinderella. 
“I’m afraid there’ll be trouble. Please run away. 
No, I don’t think I could go with you, after all.” 

Everychild stood undecided an instant; and 
94 


CINDERELLA’S DECISION 


then he could see the inner door opening. He 
would have run away, then, but it was too late; 
and Cinderella seized him by the arm. It was‘ 
plain that she was trying to think of a place 
where he might hide. 

He knew what to do in a second. He dropped 
to the floor and rolled under Cinderella’s bed! 
From his hiding-place under the bed he saw the 
door open wide and a very pompous-appearing 
matron enter the room. 

This was Cinderella’s mother, who began im- 
mediately, in a rage : 

“So, my fine girl, you are here ahead of me!” 

Cinderella bowed her head. “I am here, 
mother,” she said in a low voice. 

“Without your fine clothes, I see!” 

“My fine clothes, mother?” said Cinderella, 
with downcast eyes. 

“None of that, my lass! A mother’s eyes are 
not deceived. I knew it was you! All those 
jewels and silks, finer than your poor dear sisters 
can afford to wear, did not deceive me. And the 
prince dancing with you shamelessly while your 
poor sisters sat by as if they had wooden legs 
95 


EVERYCHILD 

. . . did you suppose for an instant you could 
deceive me?” 

Of course Cinderella knew she had been found 
out. She replied in a tone of sad resignation: 
“I could scarcely have expected to deceive you, 
mother. IVe had so little experience in doing so. 
You know IVe always been obedient — always be- 
fore. Deceit isn’t easy. I had only changed my 
dress, after all, while you had put on a gracious 
manner — and yet I knew you instantly.” 

“Precisely . . . What? Oh, you shall pay for 
that!” 

The angry creature looked about for some 
means of inflicting a cruel punishment, and her 
eyes came upon a closet door. “Come, to bed with 
you!” she exclaimed. “In the closet ! It will do 
very well for such as you. I’ll have you under 
lock and key to-night, and to-morrow I’ll look 
into your case, you impudent, disobedient 
wretch!” 

Seeing what her mother’s intention was, Cin- 
derella cried in a mournful tone, “Oh, mother!” 

But her mother stamped her foot violently. “In 
with you!” she cried. Whereupon she removed 
96 


CINDERELLA’S DECISION 


a key from its peg on the wall and unlocked the 
closet door. With one movement she forced 
Cinderella into the closet. Then she locked the 
door and replaced the key on its peg. 

“Unless the child is a witch in disguise — which 
I shouldn’t put apast her, for how else should she 
get the silks and jewels she wore to-night? — she’ll 
not be able to show her face again until I come to 
let her out. I wore a gracious manner, did I ? — 
and she knew me instantly in spite of it ! There’s 
a dutiful child for you. A dutiful child? A 
shameless hussy!” 

And the furious creature blew out the candle 
on the mantel and left the room. You could hear 
her slam the door. 

A faint cry of distress came from the locked 
closet : “Mother — ^mother !” 

In the darkness Everychild’s voice could be 
heard speaking cautiously, “Wait, Cinderella — 
wait until I can make a light.” 

The voice from the closet was heard again: 
“Mother — ^mother!” 

And then Everychild’s voice: “I must make 
a light, so that I can find the key I” 

97 


EVERYCHILD 

For the last time Cinderella’s voice could be 
heard faintly — “Mother!” 

And then there was the calm voice of the 
Masked Lady: “Now you can see!” 

The room was lighted again! The Masked 
Lady had arisen from her place. She was hold- 
ing the lighted candle above her head. 

Not a second was wasted by Everychild. He 
hurriedly crossed the room and took the key from 
its peg. He unlocked the closet door. 

Cinderella thrust the door open and burst into 
the room. 

“I couldn’t leave you there, you know,” said 
Everychild. 

Cinderella regarded him intently. “ Y ou could 
not leave me there — no,” she said; “and you shall 
not leave me in this house, where I meet only 
indignities and abuse. Come, I am going with 
you.” 

Not another word was needed. Hand in hand 
they approached the outer door. For a moment 
Everychild disengaged his hand to remove the 
bar from before the door. He opened the door, 
and then hand in hand they passed the threshold. 

98 


CINDERELLA’S DECISION 


As if she were moving quite absent-mindedly 
the Masked Lady went and closed the door be- 
hind them. She put the bar back in its place. 
She pondered a moment and then she re-locked 
the closet door, replacing the key on its wooden 
peg. 

There was a sound of footsteps approaching; 
and instantly the light went out, though the 
Masked Lady had not blown upon it. 

Pitch darkness for a moment, then the flash of 
a light. The mother of Cinderella was stand- 
ing near the mantel, lighting the candle, which 
was back in its place again. The Masked Lady 
was seated by the wooden table, polishing spoons. 

“I thought I heard a voice!” mused the mother 
of Cinderella. 

She inspected the outer door. The bar was in 
its place. She looked at the closet door. It was 
locked. The key was on its peg. 


99 


CHAPTER XI 


SOME ONE PASSES WITH A SONG ON THE 
ROAD OF TROUBLED CHILDREN 

T he sun came up and filled the woodland 
with patches of gold. Birds began to sing. 
The forest was awake. 

The children began to awaken, one after an- 
other: Hansel, first. He got up and rubbed his 
eyes morosely and said, “I’m hungry as a wolf!” 

His movements aroused Grettel. She said, 
“Xo wonder. Hansel. We really must have some- 
thing to eat.” 

Then Everychild stirred; and then Cinder- 
ella, who was lying by his side. Next, the giant. 
Will o’Dreams, sprang to his feet and viewed the 
sun-patches far and near, and lifted his arms in 
delight. For the moment he quite forgot the 
threat which Mr. Literal had made against him. 
He was perfectly happy. 

They all went a little distance and found a 
100 


A SONG ON THE ROAD 


brook, where they washed their faces and 
quenched their thirst. Then Everychild re- 
marked, “We ought to have breakfast.” 

Hansel looked at him almost contemptuously. 
“Ought we, indeed!” he exclaimed. “And I sup- 
pose you know where we’re going to get it?” 

“We must think,” said Everychild. 

And at that very moment there was the sound 
of some one coming along the road, singing. 
They all looked to see who it was. 

“Aladdin!” exclaimed Everychild excitedly. 

It was indeed Aladdin. His pigtail hung down 
adorably and his rosy mouth expressed nothing 
but happiness. He was singing — 

“Tla-la-la . . . tla-la-la ...” 

He perceived the children standing in a row, 
gazing at him. He stopped short. His song 
ended. He stood there smiling. 

“Good morning!” said Everychild. He added 
in a voice which faltered just enough to make his 
question seem in good taste, “Have you got your 
lamp?” 

Aladdin moved a little, so that they might all 
101 


EVERYCHILD 


see his lamp. He held it aloft and looked at it, 
and then at Everychild. 

“And so you haven’t been able to think of the 
best thing of allf^ asked Everychild. 

“Alas, no,” replied Aladdin, his eyes suddenly 
becoming somber. 

Everychild thought again, as he had done be- 
fore, how strange it was that Aladdin should wish 
to be rid of his lamp. But he thought it best 
to speak cheerfully. “We were just wishing for 
breakfast,” he said. “But of course it didn’t do 
any good, because we hadn’t any lamp.” 

Aladdin’s eyes began to twinkle again. “What 
did you wish for breakfast?” he asked. 

Hansel made haste to say, “Sausages — and 
plenty of them!” 

Grettel reflected and said: “Eggs. Some nice 
poached eggs.” 

They all looked at Cinderella, who hesitated 
and then said reluctantly — “If I could just have 
a little marmalade and seed-cake ” 

The giant said nothing at all; and at last 
Everychild spoke : “I’m not particular,” he said. 

“Just anything that happens to be convenient.” 

102 


A SONG ON THE ROAD 


This response pleased Aladdin best of all. He 
said, “Well, I’ll wish for you.” He pushed his 
soft loose sleeves back and held his lamp up. 
He rubbed it in a certain fashion, and sure 
enough a great genie appeared. 

“If you’d just kindly prepare something nice 
for breakfast,” said Aladdin to the genie courte- 
ously. And the genie made a salaam which de- 
lighted Grettel particularly, and then he began to 
pluck things out of the air — just as the magician 
in the theater does: a small stove from which a 
blue flame arose ; a sauce-pan ; a nice table covered 
with a white cloth ; plates and knives and forks — 
everything. He placed a white cap on his head 
and held the sauce-pan over the blue flame. He 
kept smiling mischievously all the while; and at 
last he carried the sauce-pan to the table and 
poured something into every dish. Then he made 
another salaam, and that was all there was to 
him. 

The children aU eagerly took their places. 
They looked excitedly to see what the genie had 
prepared for them. 

It was bread and milk in every case. 

103 


EVERYCHILD 


They all shouted gleefully because of the trick 
the genie had played on them. Then they looked 
about for Aladdin, who for the moment was no- 
where to be seen. 

Far down the road they heard him singing as 
he went on his way. His voice was faint and 
musical — 

“Tla-la-la . . . tla-la-la . . 


104 


CHAPTER XII 


EVERYCHILD BECOMES ACQUAINTED WITH A 
POOR DOG 



FTER they had finished their breakfast 


they all decided it would be a wise plan to 
have a serious talk among themselves, so that they 
might agree upon their plans for the future. 

“We ought to know just what we want to 
do,” said Everychild. 

“And how we’re going to do it,” said Cinder- 
ella. 

Said Hansel: “I’m for keeping right ahead 
on this road, so we’ll overtake that boy with the 
lamp.” 

Grettel could not think of a suggestion, and she 
contented herself with saying in a critical tone, 
“Oh, Hansel!” 

“It might be that we ought to find some other 
road,” said Everychild. “You know this is called 
the Road of Troubled Children.” 


105 


EVERYCHILD 


“I am told,” said the giant, speaking for the 
first time, “that if you watch for the guide-posts 
it presently turns into the Road of Happy 
Children.” 

A harsh voice behind them exclaimed. “It is 
false!” And turning his head, the giant beheld 
Mr. Literal glowering down upon him from be- 
hind. However, he paid not the slightest atten- 
tion. 

“.^yway,” said Everychild, “it doesn’t matter 
so much what road we take if we only find the 
truth at the end. We mustn’t forget that’s 
what we’re looking for.” 

“You’ll find that in a book,” declared the harsh 
voice of Mr. Literal. 

“I think we’ll find it, no matter what road we 
take,” said the giant. 

“You’ll find it in your hearts,” another voice 
was heard to say. And now it was to be noted 
that the Masked Lady had also appeared. 

“And when we find it,” said Cinderella, 
“ — ^then what shall we do?” 

“When we find it we shall know what to do,” 
said the giant. 


106 


A POOR DOG 


“When you find it you’ll be prepared to die,” 
declared Mr* Literal. 

“When they find it they shall be prepared to 
live,” the voice of the Masked Lady was heard 
to say. 

A laugh like the crackling of dry fagots was 
heard; and Mr. Literal exclaimed musingly: 
“The little simpletons! They seek to find the 
truth at their age! Little do they know that I 
have spent my whole life anxiously seeking it!” 

The Masked Lady said softly: “It is found 
by those who have ceased to seek it anxiously.” 

Then the members of the band sat in silence 
for a time, each trying to decide what the truth 
would mean. Hansel was thinking that it would 
mean the secret of getting something to eat at 
every hour of the day and night. Cinderella de- 
cided it would mean a way of finding the prince 
who had danced with her at the ball. And Every- 
child got no further than the decision that it 
would mean something that would make every 
day perfectly delightful. 

In the meantime the forest had become glori- 
ous with the heat and light of the ascending sun. 

107 


EVERYCHILD 


The waking noises of the birds had given place 
to the business of being boldly active. And the 
children, with a common impulse, would have re- 
sumed their journey. But just at that moment 
a traveler was seen to be approaching. 

It was Everychild who went forward to salute 
the traveler, who proved to be a boy with hang- 
ing head and lagging feet. His hands were 
thrust into his pockets and there were tear-stains 
on his cheeks. 

“Good morning,” said Everychild. 

“Don’t bother me,” said the boy. “I’m running 
away.” 

“I didn’t see you run,” said Everychild. 

The boy stopped and looked at Everychild re- 
proachfully. “It’s called running away,” he said ; 
“though everybody knows you don’t run, and for 
that matter, there’s no away about it. Mostly 
you turn around and go back. But I call it run- 
ning away just the same. It takes a load off my 
mind.” 

“I know how it is,” declared Everychild. “My 
friends and I have taken to the road, too; and if 
you like, you may join us.” 

108 


A POOR DOG 


The boy thought this over a moment; and at 
length he said, ‘T’ll do it. I’ll not get any further 
away, being with others, and it’ll not be any 
harder to go back, when I weaken. I’m ready to 
join you now, only it might look better if I just 
drop in on my mother for a minute to tell her 
good-by.” 

It seemed to Everychild that perhaps this 
would be a wise thing to do. “And shall we 
wait for you?” he asked. 

“You might just go along with me, if the others 
will wait, to make sure there isn’t any foul play.” 

To this plan Everychild readily agreed; and 
after he had explained the situation to his com- 
panions, he set off with the new boy along a path 
which branched off from the road. 

“My name is Tom,” explained the boy. “Tom 
Hubbard.” And after that they continued their 
way in silence. 

They arrived, after no great journey, at a 
very prim little house, set down in a very prim 
little garden. Curtains hung in the windows just 
so, and the door-knob shone like gold. The only 
friendly thing about the place was a little black 
109 


EVERYCHILD 


dog with a rough coat and great wistful eyes, 
which came running down the walk to leap up 
before the boy Tom, trying to lick his hands. 

They entered the house, and the instant Every- 
child crossed the threshold he realized that he 
had never seen a house quite like this one. It 
made you think of a very careful drawing. 
Everything was at right angles with everything 
else. A small table stood precisely in the middle 
of the floor, and two really silly little chairs were 
placed before it. A spick-and-span cupboard, 
with a perforated tin front, stood over against the 
wall. 

The little black dog ran over to the cupboard 
immediately and stood on his hind legs, gazing at 
the perforated doors. 

“We’d better sit on the floor,” said Tom, after 
he had glanced uneasily about the room. 

This seemed a bit strange to Everychild, but 
he said politely, “I’m very fond of sitting on the 
floor myself.” 

And so they sat down on the floor and clasped 
their hands about their knees. 

110 


A POOR DOG 


“And so this is where you live!” said Every- 
child, looking about him with frank interest. 

“It is where I did live. I’ll live here no more, 
now that I’ve found somebody to run away with. 
When she comes in — ^my mother, I mean — I’ll 
just say good-by and light out.” 

“What’s been the matter?” asked Everychild. 

“It’s no fit place for a boy to live,” said Tom. 
“In the first place, nobody’s ever home. Mother’s 
always gadding about somewhere. She gives lec- 
tures on The Home, and she’s never here except 
between lectures. And even then her mind is 
somewhere else. You don’t dare to speak to her. 
She stares at nothing — so. And all she says is, 
‘For goodness’ sake, don’t shout so or ^Must you 
make that noise when you’re eating?’ or ‘Can’t 
you walk without shaking the floor like that?’ and 
finally, ‘I think you’ll drive me insane at last — 
such a careless creature you are!’ ” 

“It must be very bad,” said Everychild. 

“I’ve been so I was afraid to move, knowing 
she would complain. I’ve sat for hours studying 
her, trying to understand her. I used to think 
the fault was all mine.” 


Ill 


EVERYCHILD 


“It does make you feel that way, doesn’t it?” 
said Everychild. “And sometimes I’ve thought 
fathers were as bad as mothers about making you 
feel so.” 

Tom lapsed into a dreamy mood. “Fathers 
... I don’t remember much about my father,” 
he said. “But he used to be uncomfortable about 
the house the same as me. The things she says 
to me — ^they come easy to her now, because she 
learned to say them long ago, to my father. He 
couldn’t have a friend in to see him. It was al- 
ways: ‘Why don’t they go home for their meals?’ 
or ‘Why don’t they track dirt into their own 
houses?’ or ‘Why don’t they fill their own curtains 
with tobacco smoke?’ You know how they talk. 
And he quit bringing his friends home. He 
stayed away more and more himself. I’ve not 
seen him now for years.” 

“I’m not sure I ever heard of your father,” 
said Everychild. 

“You wouldn’t have heard of him. Mother 
always made so much noise that you only heard 
of her. You wouldn’t have overlooked her, with 
her finding fault all the time, and pretending not 
112 


A POOR DOG 


to be appreciated at home She was always pitied 
by the neighbors, who knew only her side of the 
story. Oh, everybody’s heard of Old Mother 
Hubbard. But who ever heard of Old Father 
Hubbard ? She drove him away with her precise 
little ways, and now he’s forgotten.” 

Everychild could scarcely conceal his surprise. 
He hadn’t supposed it was that Hubbard. “And 
so this is where Old Mother Hubbard lives,” he 
said, looking about him with new interest. 

“It’s where you’ll find her at odd times,” said 
Tom, “when she hasn’t got a committee meeting 
to attend, or a board meeting, or a convention, or 
something. I shouldn’t say she lives anywhere.” 

“Still, everything is nice enough in its way,” 
remarked Everychild, “and I always thought she 
was very poor.” 

“Not at all,” said Tom. “It was her ‘poor dog.’ 
That’s what you have in mind, I suppose. And 
there never was a poor dog except one with a 
mean master or mistress.” 

At that moment, the little black dog, weary of 
looking at the cupboard, approached Tom and 

flopped down beside him. 

113 


EVERYCHILD 


“And that’s her dog,” said Everychild mus- 
ingly. 

“He’s mine, really,” explained Tom, “though 
I always try to think of him as hers. You take a 
fellow like me and he’d rather not own a dog. 
He has to go out into the world sooner or later; 
and if he has a dog he keeps thinking about him 
when he’s away, and about there not being any 
one to put water in his bowl, and open the gate 
for him’ or go with him for a run. A dog likes 
to be with you, you know ; and when you’re gone 
you keep seeing him all the while : waiting at the 
gate for you, or outside your door. And you 
know all the time that some day when you’re 
gone he’ll grow old at last, and lie alone dreaming 
of you, and looking — while there’s none but 
strangers by to spurn him. No, sometimes I think 
it’s better not to have a dog for a friend.” 

Everychild was thinking about this when Tom 
suddenly reached for his hat, which he had placed 
by his side. “Perhaps we’d better be getting 
along,” he said, “without waiting to tell her good- 
by. After all, there’s no telling when she’ll be 
here.” 


114 


A POOR DOG 


Everychild did not like to go without having 
seen Old Mother Hubbard; but there seemed no 
way to suggest this, and he was just rising to 
his feet when there was a bustling sound outside 
the door. 

“She’s coming now,” said Tom in a whisper. 
“She’ll be here right away.” He was dreadfully 
uneasy. He added in a tone of apology, “Just 
make the best of it, won’t you, if she’s ugly? It 
will blow over in a minute or two.” 

And then the front door was opened briskly 
and Old Mother Hubbard entered the room. 


115 


CHAPTER XIII 


A TERRIBLE LADY AT HOME 

S HE came into the room in the manner of one 
who was about to say, “Fellow-citizens!” 
But she said nothing just at first. She took a 
few steps further, walking as if she expected to 
have a badge pinned on her, or to receive a prize. 
She had a double chin; and when she began to 
speak, which she did a moment later, it developed 
that she had a deep baritone voice. 

Her first words were: “Away with you!” 
They were for the little black dog, who had 
rushed toward her with swaying tail. 

Then she saw her son and Everychild. She 
sniffed as if there were a fire somewhere as she 
said to her son^ "'And who is this, prayV" 

Everychild would have felt almost alarmed but 
for the fact that something extraordinary oc- 
curred just then. The Masked Lady entered the 
room and stood just inside the door. Still more 
116 


A TERRIBLE LADY AT HOME 

remarkable, Mr. Literal appeared just behind 
her. 

“This,” replied Tom to his mother, “is — is a 
boy who came home with me.” 

“Is it, indeed!” exclaimed Old Mother Hub- 
bard icily. She added, “What I meant to inquire 
was. What is his name?” 

Tom was blushing. “His name is Every child, 
mother,” he said, “and he’s ” 

Old Mother Hubbard had removed her bonnet, 
which was a little affair of black velvet and jet 
ornaments. She touched her hair with her finger 
tips here and there. “I might have known as 
much!” she said. “Everychild! And I suppose 
you think it is quite right for Everychild to come 
tagging home after you, making work for other 
people?” 

Tom cried out forlornly, “Oh, mother . . .” 

As for Everychild, he was thinking — “She’ll 
never let him go!” He was standing with one 
foot on top of the other in a very uncomfortable 
manner. Still, he was trying to smile, as if to 
convey the idea that Old Mother Hubbard must 
be joking, of course. 


117 


EVERYCHILD 


But the old lady continued severely: “IVe 
warned you before. You ought to know by this 
time that a house is a — a house.” 

Here Everychild managed to say, “I’ll not be 
a bit of trouble. Mother Hubbard, and — and I’m 
very glad to meet you.” 

She stared at him as if she were really seeing 
him for the first time. But her temper broke 
forth again. “Don’t tell me!” she exclaimed. “I 
know what boys are. You’ll not deny, I suppose, 
that you get ravenously hungry three times a 
day?” 

Everychild was so amazed by this that he 
looked helplessly at Tom. 

“Precisely!” continued Old Mother Hubbard. 
“Well, you should have heard our President’s ad- 
dress yesterday afternoon on The Superfluous 
Tabled 

Her son interrupted in great embarrassment, 
“Oh, mother, he doesn’t even know what you 
mean!” 

“Per’aps not. You’ve not told him, then, that 

your mother is Vice-President of the Mother 
118 



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A TERRIBLE LADY AT HOME 


Goose Auxiliary of the Amalgamated Associa- 
tions of Notable Ladies?” 

“No, mother,” said Tom, bending his head in 
shame. 

“Well, at all events . . . the President went 
on to say that the dinner table was a relic of 
barbarism. And she was quite right. She cited 
cases known to all we ladies . . .” 

Mr. Literal, from his place in the background, 
could not help saying to the Masked Lady, “Why 
is it that ladies with baritone voices always have 
trouble with their objective case?” 

But the Masked Lady did not reply, and Old 
Mother Hubbard continued: “There was the 
case of Mrs. Horner’s son — her dear, dutiful lit- 
tle Jack. When he ate his Christmas pie, where 
was he sitting? In a corner! No dinner table 
there to cause a lot of work and worry. And 
please note that he was delighted when he pulled 
out a plum. Yet the plum is one of the simplest 
forms of — of sustenance. And there was Miss 
Muffet, daughter of the highly honored Mrs. 
Alonso Muffet. During that meal which has 
become historic, where did she sit? On a tuffetr 
119 


EVERYCHILD 

Everychild could not help asking, “What is 
a tuffet?” 

But Old Mother Hubbard only regarded him 
blankly, as if there had been no interruption, and 
then she proceeded. “And you will note what she 
was eating. Curds and whey — ^perfectly simple 
yet nutritious fare. There were other instances 
showing that the wasteful dinner table must go. 
It was a wonderful address. A treat. A feast 
of good things. A spiritual feast.” 

Her son tried to lift his head. “Yes, mother,” 
he said, “but you know I’ve sometimes thought 
how good it would seem to see you in the house, 
dressed for staying in instead of going out, and 
maybe sitting by the window sewing, or in the 
kitchen paring apples, or lifting the lid from 
a pot and letting the steam out in a cloud ...” 

“A survival of the male superstition that 
Woman was born into perpetual bondage,” was 
the crisp response. 

It seemed to Everychild that some one ought 
to change the subject. He tried. “It’s really 
very interesting. Mother Hubbard,” he said; 
“and — and that’s a very nice dog you’ve gotl” 

120 


A TERRIBLE LADY AT HOME 


“Do you think so? Take him away with you 
— do ! I see nothing nice about him.” 

By this time her son could endure no more. 
“He’s going to take him away, mother,” he said. 
“And he’s going to take me, too. I just came 
to tell you good-by.” 

For the first time the old lady was strangely 
quiet. She gasped an instant and then she cried 
out angrily, “Good-by? And where are you go- 
ing?” 

“I’m going with Everychild. We’re going to 
find the truth.” 

His mother turned aside. “The boy is mad!” 
she said. Then facing him again she demanded, 
“Do you know what the truth is? I’ll tell you. 
It’s this : When you get hungry and come back 
home, standing with one foot on top of the other 
outside my door, you'll find the door shut!" 

There was an impressive silence for a moment, 
and then the Masked Lady remarked tranquilly, 
“If he finds the truth, no door will ever be closed 
to him again.” 

Then Tom, turning to Everychild, said — 
“Come, we’ll go.” 


121 


EVERYCHILD 


They left the house together. The little dog 
bounded after them. The door swung to. 

The old lady, clearly alarmed, went to the door 
as if she would open it and cry out. But pride 
prevented her from doing so. She stood with 
one hand on the wall, listening. And at last she 
did open the door ; but not a hving creature was 
in sight. 


122 


CHAPTER XIV 


MR. LITERAL’S WARNING 

E VERYCHILD was in a high state of excite- 
ment as he and Tom made their way back 
to where the other members of the band awaited 
them. 

He had scarcely dared to hope that Tom would 
be able to get away from his mother so easily. 
She had seemed really terrible. But now there 
was little danger of her overtaking them and 
making her son go back. 

He was delighted that there was to be a new 
member of the band ; while the thought of having 
a dog along with them seemed almost too good 
to be true. It would be much more interesting, 
having a dog with them. He could not know, of 
course, what exciting events lay in wait for 
him, and it seemed to him that having the dog 
might be the most wonderful part of the entire 
journey. 


123 


EVERYCHILD 


He was just thinking that the band was now 
large enough, even if no other children appeared 
to go with them, when something occurred to 
mar his perfect happiness. 

Tom had been walking ahead, because he knew 
the path better; and all of a sudden some one 
caught step with him and began to talk to him. 

It was Mr. Literal ; and the little old man was 
smiling in a very hypocritical manner and rub- 
bing his hands together. 

“Just a word of caution,’’ said Mr. Literal, by 
way of beginning. 

Everychild knew it was going to be something 
disagreeable, but he only said, “What is it?” 

“That fellow who calls himself your 
friend ” 

“You mean the giant,” said Everychild. 

“He’s a bad lot. Better keep an eye on him.” 

Everychild stared at the path before him. 

“I’ll tell you a little something about him — 
then you’ll know whether I’m right or not. Did 
he ever tell you where his home is?” 

“No,” said Everychild, very uncomfortably. 

“Of course not. Well, he was driven away 

124 


MR. LITERAL’S WARNING 

from his home, years ago. He’d not dare to go 
back.” 

“Why?” asked Everychild. 

“For telhng lies. Every word he speaks is 
false. He doesn’t know how to tell the truth. 
His own mother doesn’t know him any more. 
That's how bad he is.” 

“He seems a very pleasant boy,” said Every- 
child. 

“There you are! Of course. It’s easy to have 
a name for being pleasant if you’re willing to say 
the first thing that comes to hand.” 

“But wouldn’t you find people out if they did 
that?” asked Everychild. 

“Of course!” 

“Well, when I find the giant out I’ll remem- 
ber what you’ve said.” 

He was glad that the path broadened into a 
road just then. He ran forward a few steps and 
walked by the side of Tom. He didn’t want to 
hear anything more against the giant. In truth, 
it had begun to seem to him the best thing of 
all, having the giant as a companion. He even 

hoped that after a time the Masked Lady would 
125 


EVERYCHILD 


take some other road and leave them. It was 
rather uncomfortable, her happening to be places 
when you were not thinking about her. And if 
she were to go away there would be an end to 
Mr. Literal too. They both might be all right 
in their way, but it ought to be a band of children, 
with nobody else about. 

And so he put Mr. Literal and the Masked 
Lady, too, out of his mind. He was talking 
eagerly to Tom when they got back to where the 
others were. He called out gladly, when he 
came within hearing of them, “He’s going with 
us. And what do you think? We’ve got a dog!” 

There was general rejoicing when the dog 
made his appearance, running from one to an- 
other to get acquainted. And then, as they had 
already been delayed quite a little, they made 
haste to continue on their journey. 


126 


PART in 


argument: everychild views with amaze- 
ment A FAMOUS DWELLING-PLACE, AND IS 
GRIEVED BY THE PLIGHT OF AN UNFORTUNATE 
PRINCE. 



























CHAPTER XV 


A STRANGE HOUSE IN THE FOREST 

f I TOGETHER they traveled along the road 
^ the greater part of the day without mis- 
hap and without any experience worth record- 
ing. 

As was her custom, the Masked Lady did not 
make her appearance among them as long as they 
were quite light-hearted, and Everychild went so 
far as to congratulate himself upon having seen 
the last of her. 

Toward evening they came within sight of a 
path leading into the road on which they traveled, 
and on a stile which stood in the way of the path 
they observed a little boy who was plainly in 
trouble. 

With much difficulty the little boy crawled up 
the stile, step by step ; and when he got to the top 
step and paused a minute, he turned about, just 
as small children will do, and began climbing 
129 


EVERYCHILD 

down the stile on the other side, moving feet- fore- 
most. 

Now and again he looked over his shoulder to 
be sure that his feet had been safely placed before 
he put his weight on them; and when he did this 
you could see his face, showing two eyes very 
bright with excitement and fear. 

At last he had got clear over the stile; and 
then he stood erect and put his finger in his 
mouth. You could tell that he was trying to 
think what to do now. 

In the meantime Everychild and his compan- 
ions had come up. 

“Such a cute little chap,” said Everychild. 
Then he spoke to the child. “Where are you go- 
ing, little boy?” he asked. 

The little boy looked at Everychild blankly. 
He looked at him quite a long time. Then he 
looked at the other members of the band. Finally 
he looked at Everychild again, still with a blank 
expression. But at last he replied, “I want to 
go home, but I dasn’t.” 

The band of travelers all laughed at this; 
whereupon the little boy looked at all of them, 
ISO 


A HOUSE IN THE FOREST 


one after another. He still had his finger in his 
mouth, where he kept crooking it and uncrooking 
it. 

Then Cinderella asked: “Why dare you not 
go home?” 

The little boy lowered his eyes until they rested 
on the ground. “Because I dasn’t,” he said. 

“But why?” persisted Cinderella. 

A pause; and then, “Because I’ll catch a 
lickin’.” 

It seemed to Everychild that the little boy was 
much too small to be whipped ; and he said with 
assurance, “You may go with us, if you will, and 
then you’ll never get a whipping again.” 

But the little boy only shook his head. Clearly 
there was a difficulty in the way of accepting the 
invitation. And presently he began, falteringly, 
“My brothers and sisters . . .” 

“Oh,” said Cinderella, understanding, “he 
doesn’t want to leave his brothers and sisters.” 

“But we could take your brothers and sisters, 
too,” said Everychild to the little boy. 

The little boy now gazed at Everychild, and the 

blank expression in his eyes was there no more. 

131 


EVERYCHILD 


“Come, we’ll get them,” declared Everychild. 
“Do you live far away?” 

“There,” said the little boy, pointing away into 
the forest, where not a sign of a house was vis- 
ible. 

Here Grettel spoke for the first time : “Let’s 
not,” she said. “I don’t think I care about wan- 
dering away into the woods.” 

“We might get lost,” suggested Cinderella. 

And now the giant interposed. “I agree with 
Everychild that we ought to take the little boy 
and his brothers and sisters with us,” he said; 
“and as for wandering away into the woods, that 
will not be necessary. I’ll take you to the house 
where the little boy lives by a secret method which 
I understand.” 

With that he faced the depths of the forest and 
stood very erect, with hands uplifted. There was 
a very solemn expression in his eyes. And sud- 
denly it seemed that the nearby trees began to 
lift and disappear ; and presto ! — Everychild and 
his companions were standing quite close to one 
of the most famous and remarkable houses ever 
heard of. 


132 


A HOUSE IN THE FOREST 


Everychild had too little time just then to 
marvel at the strange feat which had been per- 
formed by the giant. He was lost in amazement 
at the house before which he stood. 

It was really an immense, dilapidated shoe, 
patched and broken. The toe was about to gape 
open, though it was held here and there by a 
few threads. The laces were gone and the whole 
upper sprawled shapelessly. In brief, it was pre- 
cisely like any old shoe you will see on a vacant 
lot, save for its immense size. Its size was prodi- 
gious. It was as large as a small house. 

A stovepipe stuck out where the little toe 
would be, and smoke was pouring out of the 
pipe just as if some one had been putting a supply 
of fuel on the fire. It was woodsmoke and had 
a pleasant smell. It seemed that perhaps some 
one was preparing supper. 

Not a soul was in sight about the house— or 
the shoe — ^nor about the premises. Yet you could 
see that some one had been hard at work only 
a short time before. The wash had been hung 
out to dry and it was still damp. It hung from 

a line which was suspended from the highest point 

iss 


EVERYCHILD 


of the shoe — ^where the strap is that you pull it 
on by — ^to the limb of a nearby tree. You could 
tell by the garments that there were a lot of 
children about. There were best shirts and every- 
day shirts and petticoats and trousers. There 
were many colors, so that they all made a rather 
gay spectacle. And some were of ordinary size, 
and some were quite tiny. 

There were many trees in the background ; and 
one of these cast its shade over the immense shoe 
in a very pleasing way. There was a table un- 
der the tree, and a kind of dinner-bell hanging 
from a limb of the tree. There were chairs about 
the table. Finally, there was a ladder standing 
against the shoe, so that you could climb up and 
get in at the top. 

“And so,” said Everychild in a tone of wonder, 
“this is where you live !” He had taken the little 
boy by the hand. 

The httle boy was about to reply when some- 
thing almost alarming happened. The little boy 
slipped his hand away from Everychild’s and 
shrank back until he was hiding behind Cinder- 

134 , 


A HOUSE IN THE FOREST 


ella’s skirt. An astonishing head and shoulders 
appeared above the top of the shoe ! 

The Old Woman who Lived in the Shoe had 
heard them. She remained perched in her place, 
glaring severely about the yard below. 

Nor was this all. Other individuals inside 
the shoe had evidently heard the voice of Every- 
child. And now they began to peep out in the 
most extraordinary fashion. Three pairs of eyes 
appeared at the broken toe of the shoe. And up 
the double row of eye-holes, all the way up the 
front of the shoe, startled faces were to be seen. 
You could see excited eyes with hair hanging 
down before them. 

All this proved too much for the little black 
dog, who had gone forward from Tom’s side to 
inspect the shoe. Now he began barking ex- 
citedly at the half-hidden faces. 

Everychild stood in his place, wide-eyed and 
with beating heart. 

The Old Woman arose more fully into view. 
She stared down at Everychild. She flung the 
hair back from her face. 

‘‘Humph!” she said. 

135 


CHAPTER XVI 


AN ELABORATION OF ONE OF HISTORY’S MOST 
SUCCINCT CHAPTERS 

E VERYCHILD’S companions drew back 
behind the shelter of a convenient bush. The 
Old Woman’s countenance really did seem, for 
the moment, quite ferocious. But Everychild did 
not move. 

The Old Woman arose still higher and stepped 
out of the top of the shoe to the top rung of the 
ladder. She carried a steaming pot in one hand, 
and thus handicapped she descended the ladder. 

She placed the steaming pot on the table and 
then turned her attention to Everychild. She ex- 
claimed dubiously; “You’re not one o’ mine!” 
He shook his head. “No, ma’am,” he replied. 
She sat down deliberately, drawing a long 
breath, but without taking her eyes from Every- 
child. “Just an idler,” she said, “like all the rest 
of the young ones. I don’t know what’s the mat- 
136 


AN ELABORATION 


ter with them these days — children. When I was 
young I had to work. I expected nothing less. 
And I tell mine what was good enough for me 
is good enough for them.” 

She made this statement as if she hadn’t left a 
single thing to be said. 

If seemed rather obscure to Everychild. He 
tried to think of a more agreeable subject. He 
looked the Old Woman’s house over, up and 
down. ‘Tt’s rather a funny house, isn’t it?” he 
remarked. 

The Old Woman’s manner became more sullen 
than ever. She seized upon a ladle and began 
stirring the steaming pot. “It does very well,” 
she declared. “Houses are funny or otherwise 
according to what goes on in them. When you’ve 
got your hands full of children who don’t want 
to work you can’t say that your house is exactly 
funny. Its being an old shoe — if that’s what you 
mean . . . that’s a matter of taste. I prefer it, 
for my part. I’d never have been able to settle 
down anywhere else. You see, I had to be on 
my feet mostly all the time from little on, and 
now it comes natural, being in a shoe. I can 
137 


EVERYCHILD 


imagine I’m on the go, even if I never get out 
from one week’s end to another.” 

She lifted the ladle from the pot. She pressed 
one hand to her bosom and with the other lifted 
the ladle to her lips, testing the stew. There was 
a thoughtful look in her eyes. Then she con- 
tinued : 

As for living in a shoe . . . there's plenty of 
females that live in two. Always on the go, 
they’re that restless. I tell my undergrowth it’s 
no more disgrace to live in one shoe than in two, 
so long as you’ve got one that’s big enough.” 

She seemed so pleased with this remark that 
she had to stir the pot vigorously, as a relief to 
her emotions. 

There was a surprising interruption just here. 
The Masked Lady and Mr. Literal were there, 
after all, standing close behind Everychild. And 
Mr. Literal was saying: “She seems to be a bit 
of a cynic. That reference to women on the go 
. . • what period should you say she belongs to?" 

“To every period,” said the Masked Lady. 
After which, fortunately, they remained silent. 

138 



“As foi living in a shoe — there’s plenty of females that live in two. 





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4( 





AN ELABORATION 


“And your children,” said Everychild. “I 
don’t see them anywhere.” 

“They’ll be here soon enough. I hire ’em out 
by the day — ^the boys. I tell ’em if they won’t 
work for me I’ll put ’em under masters who’ll 
make ’em work. They gather fagots — ^the boys. 
The girls are in the house. They did the wash 
to-day and I keep ’em under my eye until it’s 
time to take the clothes in. Nothing like keep- 
ing a girl under your eye if you want to know 
where she is.” 

She got up with an air of great industry and 
went to the line where the wash was hanging. 
She tried the garments with her hand. It seemed 
they were now dry enough to be taken in. She 
stepped to the bell suspended from the tree and 
struck it sharply with a little mallet which had 
been provided for this purpose. 

Wonder of wonders! — ^the top of the shoe be- 
gan to overflow with girls! They were rather 
carelessly dressed, and there was hair in their 
eyes — ^they took after their mother in this matter 
— but being young, they were all fresh and bloom- 
ing in a way. 


139 


EVERYCHILD 


They could leave the shoe only one at a time. 
They began descending the ladder in a sort of 
procession. You would have thought the last 
one would never make her appearance. 

They paid very little attention to Everychild. 
They began taking in the wash. Some held their 
arms out to receive the clothes which others re- 
moved from the line. They took the line down 
the last thing of all. They wound it up care- 
fully. 

Just at this time there were stealthy move- 
ments all about the house, as if robbers were com- 
ing. From among the trees the boys began to 
steal home. They came from various directions, 
all walking on tip-toe. Many of them hung back 
fearfully, though two of them found courage 
enough to come up close to Everychild. 

“You must be the boys coming home,” said 
Everychild. 

The first son nodded, but kept his eyes fixed 
anxiously on the Old Woman. She was glaring 
at a girl ascending the ladder. “Look sharp 
where you put those things, now,” she was say- 
ing. “I’ll be inside in a minute, and if you 
140 


AN ELABORATION 


haven’t put them away properly I’ll know the 
reason why!” 

Every child felt that he was fully justified in 
saying (to the first son) “She seems to be pretty 
bad, doesn’t she!” 

The first son fairly jumped. “Not so loud!” 
he whispered. “She might hear you.” 

The Old Woman really had heard. She stared 
at her first son in a terrible manner. “So you’ve 
come, have you ?” she exclaimed. “And I suppose 
you’ll tell me you’ve been working hard all day?” 

“Yes, mother,” replied the first son. “We’ve 
carried more fagots than you ever saw. Such fine 
fagots! Didn’t we?” He turned to the second 
son to have his report verified. 

“You wouldn’t believe how many fine fagots 
we carried,” declared the second son. 

The other sons began to appear one by one, 
now that the first shock of battle was over. They 
all stared up at the Old Woman as if they were 
prepared to run if she so much as sneezed. 

“Well, you know what’s coming to you now,” 
said the Old Woman. “Come on, all of you!” 

They all began to make wry faces. “If we 
141 


EVERYCHILD 


could only have some bread with it, mother!” 
pleaded the first son. 

“You’ll take what’s offered you!” exclaimed 
the Old Woman grimly. 

“And if you wouldn’t whip us to-night, mother 
— anyway, not so soundly,” said the second son. 

To this the Old Woman retorted : “Who does 
the whipping around here, I’d like to know? 
Come here this instant!” 

It seemed that there was to be a brief respite, 
however; for the Old Woman turned to the 
steaming pot and began testing its contents with 
great seriousness, lifting the ladle to her lips 
again and again, and looking abstractedly far 
away into the forest. 

In the meantime more of the children gathered 
around Everychild. A few of the girls now 
joined their brothers. They looked at Every- 
child with unconcealed admiration. 

“What do you suppose she is going to do to 
you?” asked Everychild of the group about him. 

The first son replied to this : “I should think 
you’d know. Haven’t you been told how she 
whips us something terrible?” 

142 


AN ELABORATION 

Everychild inquired in amazement; “All of 
you?” 

The first daughter now spoke. “All of us,” 
she said. “Every last one of us. That’s just be- 
fore she puts us to bed, you know.” 

“Of course — I remember now,” said Every- 
child. She ‘whips you all soundly.’ ” 

“That’s no word for it,” declared the first son. 
“You know she’s had an awful lot of experience 
all these years. And there’s so many of us.” 

He concluded this sentence in so meek a man- 
ner that Everychild exclaimed indignantly, “I 
think it ought to be stopped. If I were you . . . 
did you ever try hiding her whip ?” 

The first daughter replied hopelessly, “We 
couldn’t do that. Her whip . . . it’s the kind of 
whip that grows, you understand.” 

“Some sort of limb?” 

“You might call it that. But it’s her own limb.” 

“Yes, if she got it first.” 

“She did. It’s her hand.” 

“Do you mean,” demanded Everychild, “that 
she whips all of you with her hand?” 

143 


EVERYCHILD 


“And does a thorough job, too,” said the first 
daughter. 

Everychild assumed a very grave air. “How 
often does this happen?” he asked. 

“Every night,” he was assured. 

He made a very wry face. “But such things 
...” He couldn’t think of the right word at 
first. Then he asked, “But isn’t it all very — ^very 
vulgar?” 

The first daughter sighed. “I suppose so,” 
she admitted. “But when there are so many chil- 
dren you can’t help being a little vulgar.” 

The first son put in here: “And you mustn’t 
think too hard of mother. You can imagine her 
position : so many of us, and the high cost of liv- 
ing, and all. Sometimes I think she whips us just 
to get our minds off our stomachs. You know, 
a supper of broth without any bread — and that’s 
just what it is — ^is about as bad as nothing at 
all. But if you’ve been whipped soundly you for- 
get about being hungry. You think about run- 
ning away, or something like that. And the next 
thing you know it’s morning.” 

Everychild still felt very uncomfortable. “But 

144 


AN ELABORATION 


how does she manage about breakfast?” he asked. 

“Oh, she has to feed us well in the morning — 
to keep us from starving,” explained the first son. 

Everychild nodded as if the matter had been 
made perfectly clear. And then the Old Woman 
cried out quite alarmingly, “Are you coming, or 
shall I have to fetch you?” 

Several of the children replied to this; “We’re 
coming!” Nevertheless they did not go immedi- 
ately. The first daughter would not go with- 
out saying to Everychild, “Of course we ought to 
invite you to have supper with us — but you see 
it isn’t quite like a regular supper.” She blushed 
painfully. 

Everychild reassured her immediately. “Don’t 
think of it,” he said. 

The second son also had something else to say. 
“I suppose there aren’t so many of you at your 
house?” he asked. 

“So many children?” replied Everychild. “No. 
Not any, now. I was the only child.” 

This had the effect of exciting all the sons and 
daughters. The second son voiced the amaze- 
ment which they all felt. “You don’t say so!” he 
14 ^ 


EVERYCHILD 


exclaimed. “But how did you ever get anything 
to wear? If there was no one ahead of you, how 
could they make anything over for you?” 

Everychild really did not understand this. 
“Why, my mother used to get things for me,” 
he said. 

“Your mother, certainly,” said the second son. 
“But who wore your clothes before you got 
them?” 

“No one, I suppose. You mean that your 
clothes . . . ?” 

“They’re made over from the things the older 
children have grown too big for.” 

Everychild was more and more puzzled. 
“Yes,” he said, “but the oldest one of all — ^there 
had to be a beginning!” 

The second son laughed. “In the beginning,” 
he explained, “they have to be cut down from 
father’s things.” 

“Oh — ^your father’s!” exclaimed Everychild. 
Then in a polite murmur, “I — I never heard of 
your father.” 

The second son explained this simply. “You 
146 


AN ELABORATION 

never do, when there are so many children,” he 
said. 

While Everychild was nodding slowly in reply 
to this the scene suddenly changed. 

The Old Woman took two or three steps in 
the direction of her sons and daughters; and 
the sons and daughters, seeing there was no hope 
for them, approached her with hanging heads. 

The scene which followed was such that Every- 
child felt certain he could never forget it. One 
after another the children were seized and fed a 
few spoonfuls of the broth without any bread. 
Then each was spanked most soundly. Then one 
by one they quickly escaped up the ladder until 
the last of them had disappeared. It was all 
over in a very short time. 

Everychild had now been joined by his com- 
panions, who saw the last of the Old Woman’s 
children scramble up the ladder and disappear. 

As for the Old Woman, she stood a moment, 
panting, as well she might, and then she made 
her way around behind the shoe. J ust before she 
disappeared she glared at Everychild and 

actually made a face at him! 

147 


EVERYCHILD 


Everychild addressed his companions. “I 
think we ought to get them to go with us,” he 
said. “That’s no way for them to be treated — 
to be whipped and sent to bed like that.” 

The giant began dreamily — “There ought to 
be some way . . .” 

Every child’s eyes brightened. “If we could 
only open the toe of the shoe — ^though of course 
we couldn’t!” 

“We could,” declared the giant. 

They went forward stealthily. Will o’Dreams 
following the example of Everychild and moving 
without a soimd. 

The giant slipped his fingers under the loose 
ends of the toe of the shoe and tugged with all his 
might. After resisting a moment the toe lifted. 

What a sight do we behold! One child after 
another came tumbling out of the shoe until all 
the Old Woman’s sons and daughters had been 
liberated. They sprang to their feet excitedly, 
dusting their garments and looking grateful and 
relieved. 

Everychild addressed them briefly, in a low 
voice: “You’re going away with us, all of you. 

148 


AN ELABORATION 


You’re not going to stand such treatment any 
longer. We’re all going on a great adventure, 
and you shall go with us.” 

The sons and daughters all made eager signs 
of assent, though they were careful not to speak 
a word. Only the little black dog violated the 
rule of silence. He fairly danced about the en- 
tire group of children. And then they all slipped 
away into the forest. 

Let us, however, remain a moment to note what 
took place about the shoe. 

Presently the Old Woman emerged from be- 
hind the shoe. She was yawning prodigiously. 
Slowly she climbed the ladder. She disappeared. 

But was this to be the last of her? Not sol 

Only a moment later her head and shoulders 
again appeared. Her eyes were staring wildly. 
She looked this way and that, all about her. Her 
eyes clearly revealed that she had realized her 
loss. At last she began beating her bosom with 
both hands. Her hair fell down until you could 
scarcely see her face. 

And far off in the forest her children were 

speeding on their way. 

149 


CHAPTER XVII 

EVERYCHILD WITH ADDITIONAL COMPANIONS 
FINDS REFUGE IN AN OLD HOUSE 

E VERYCHILD and his companions were 
now journeying through a country where 
the evenings were very long; and thus it chanced 
that after they had all departed from the Old 
Woman who lived in a shoe, there was still a 
considerable period of daylight before them. 

Their number was now greatly augmented by 
the sons and daughters of the Old Woman, and 
as a result, they were merrier than they had been 
before. Just the same, they began to be hungry 
before night fell, and they were greatly puzzled 
as to where they might satisfy their hunger. 

Indeed, it may be confessed that Hansel be- 
came really disagreeable, and remarked — in a 
muttering fashion, so that no one could be sure 

of understanding him — ^that they might be on the 
150 


REFUGE IN AN OLD HOME 


right road to find the truth, but that if they did 
not find food in greater abundance before long, 
he, for his part, should take some other direction. 

There were moments when Everychild was 
tempted to turn back; but he could not doubt 
that if they all persevered they would come to 
a glorious end to their adventure sooner or later, 
and perhaps very soon. 

Unfortunately, they made so much noise as 
they journeyed that such travelers as might have 
been on the road, and who might by good chance 
have offered them food, turned aside and hid 
from them, fearing, no doubt, that they were the 
Forty Thieves, or some other equally rapacious 
band. 

Only one incident occurred to break the mon- 
otony of the evening hour. They came upon 
two adorable little children whom they found 
clinging together and weeping freely. 

One of these they recognized immediately as 
Little Boy Blue; and as they had never known 
of his having to bear any very grievous misfor- 
tune, they suspected that his tears might be of 

the sort that are easily dried. Yet it developed 
151 


EVERYCHILD 


that Little Boy Blue had not wept until he had 
borne up a long time with great fortitude. 

The band paused and Every child asked, “Why 
are you weeping, Little Boy Blue?” 

The reply came between broken sobs. “I could 
bear it no longer,” said Little Boy Blue. “I was 
required to watch the cows and the sheep from 
early morn till dark, and often I must needs 
arise at night to run forth to the fold when there 
was an alarm of wolves. Day after day my head 
grew heavier from want of sleep, until at last I 
could keep my eyes open no longer. I stole un- 
der the haystack to snatch a few extra winks, and 
when I was discovered my shame and disgrace 
were heralded forth to all the world.” And again 
the poor child sobbed without restraint. 

“And this dear little girl with you,” asked 
Cinderella, who had been walking side by side 
with Everychild, “who is she?” 

Little Boy Blue checked his grief long enough 
to stare at Cinderella incredulously. “Is it pos- 
sible that there is anywhere a person who does 
not recognize Little Bo-Peep?” he asked. 

“So it is!” exclaimed Cinderella. And bend- 
152 


REFUGE IN AN OLD HOME 


ing tenderly above the form of Little Bo-Peep 
she asked, “And why do you weep so bitterly, 
Little Bo-Peep?” 

The child could scarcely speak, so spent was 
she with weeping; but little by little Cinderella 
drew from her the truth. The little thing was 
much too small to be entrusted with the care 
of sheep, and her life had been made wretched 
by fear of the great ^dogs which were never ab- 
sent from the flocks, and by the dark rumors of 
wolves which the shepherds were forever repeat- 
ing. 

Grettel expressed her opinion of the case with- 
out reserve. “It may be hysteria,” she said, 
“though it looks more to me like a complete 
nervous break-down.” 

“I hardly think so,” said Cinderella smihng. 
“We’ll just take them along with us, and they’ll 
be all right.” 

And so, with the addition of yet another pair to 
their numbers, they quickened their pace along 
the road. 

They were becoming hungrier every minute — 
even the sons and daughters of the Old Woman 

153 


EVERYCHILD 


who lived in a shoe, who, as we have seen, had had 
far too light a supper — and while they were will- 
ing to sleep without shelter, if they were called 
upon to do so, they all hoped that they need not 
go to sleep supperless. 

While there was still a short period of day- 
light remaining they came into an ancient town 
situated at the foot of a hill on which a castle 
stood; and upon questioning a number of the 
townspeople they learned that they had entered 
the realm of a cruel king, who resided in the 
castle on the hill. 

“Take my advice and escape while ye may,” 
said one ancient man with a long white beard. 
He had addressed Everychild. He added, “The 
king hath a grudge against one manly little lad 
who greatly resembles you, and if he once sets 
eyes on you I should tremble for the conse- 
quences.” 

Everychild thanked the old man for this well- 
ment counsel. “But,” said he, “my friends and 
I are weary, and we must think of resting for 
the night before we set forth on our way again.” 

“Then,” said the old man, “y^^ might find 

154 


REFUGE IN AN OLD HOME 


shelter in yonder house, which hath long remained 
empty, because it is said to be haunted.” And 
he pointed to a neglected old house hard by the 
road. “Though,” he added, “I can assure you 
that the story which hath it that there are specters 
in the house is but an idle one. The truth is this : 
there once dwelt a good woman and her fair 
daughter in the house ; and the cruel king seeing 
the daughter, he commanded straightway that 
she be brought to him to become his bride. The 
good woman, desiring to save her daughter, es- 
caped ; and the henchmen of the king, not wish- 
ing the real truth to be known, invented the 
story of a ghost in the house. And since that day 
no one has ventured to occupy the house after 
sundown.” 

Everychild thanked the old man again; and 
then, together with all his companions, he en- 
tered the old house which had been pointed out 
to him. 

There was, indeed, no trace of ghostly occu- 
pants of the house; but on the contrary, the 
rooms, upstairs and down, speedily became the 

scene of much jollity. It seemed, also, that the 
155 


EVERYCHILD 


old man had spread the report among the towns- 
people that a band of children had taken refuge 
in the house for the night; and many kindly- 
disposed folk came and brought food and drink, 
so that there was an abundance for all the chil- 
dren. 

After eating heartily, and looking from the 
windows to observe the castle wherein the king 
dwelt, they all sought a good night’s rest. 

And now once again we must leave Everychild 
and his companions for a little while, and take 
our place among surroundings at once strange 
and cruel. 


156 


CHAPTER XVIII 


HOW THE HAND OF A CHAMBERLAIN 
TREMBLED 

W E are now in a room in the castle of the 
cruel king, on top of the hill. 

The four walls of the room were grim and for- 
bidding of aspect. The tapestry covering them 
in places was old and of somber design. There 
were two doors opening to the room: one on 
the right and one on the left. At the far side 
of the room there was a deep-silled window with 
leaded panes through which a dreary light strug- 
gled. 

At first you would have said that the room 
was empty; and then you would have perceived 
the Masked Lady and Mr. Literal, occupying a 
position among the shadows, not far from the 
deep-siUed window. 

The Masked Lady was again wearing the white 
garment in which we first beheld her. She was 
157 


EVERYCHILD 


seated before a desk, writing in a large book in 
which you could see a few initial letters in red, 
outlined in gold. 

Mr. Literal stood by her, regarding her with 
an impatient, puzzled air. And presently it 
would have seemed that he could no longer en- 
dure her silence; for he asked in a fault-finding 
tone : 

“Can you tell me what you’re doing here? 
This place is — is genuine. And of late it has 
been your fancy to haunt places which have ex- 
isted only in the imaginations of the story- 
tellers.” 

Without looking up from the Book of Truth 
(for this was the volume in which she was writ- 
ing) the Masked Lady replied: “Did you say 
that this place is genuine?” 

“Of course,” said Mr. Literal. “We are in a 
medieval castle in Northampton — ^the castle of 
King J ohn of England. King J ohn or his cham- 
berlain is likely to enter at any moment. And 
goodness knows what they’d say at finding you 
here.” 

The Masked Lady turned a page. “King John 

158 


THE HAND OF A CHAMBERLAIN 


would not see me here if he were to enter,’’ said 
she; “no, neither here nor anywhere. And as for 
honest old Hubert de Burgh . . . well, perhaps 
I have a purpose in being here. You have said 
this place is genuine; yet I sometimes wonder 
if any place in all the world is so unreal as the 
palace of a king.” She gazed before her dreamily 
for an instant and added, “I can see a day coming 
when all such palaces will be viewed by wonder- 
ing, emancipated people, their minds filled with 
incredulity: because they will realize that kings’ 
palaces have represented the most terrible delu- 
sion of all.” 

There was a footfall without at that moment, 
and the Masked Lady resumed her writing. 

A bluff, soldierly-appearing man of middle 
age entered the room: a bearded man of harsh 
visage, yet with an eye in which justice sat en- 
throned. He looked about the room with an air 
of dawning relief ; and when two villainous-look- 
ing rascals followed him into the room he re- 
marked, with a sigh: “He’s not here. And that’s 
a bit of luck at least — ^to have no one about whilst 
we mix this devil’s brew.” Then more briskly: 

159 


EVERYCHILD 

“A red-hot iron — ^red-hot, do you hear? — in a 
hurry!” 

The first attendant, to whom he had spoken, 
glanced darkly at the second door of the room, 
which remained closed. “A hot iron? Yes, sir,” 
he said, trying to speak naturally. “It shall 
be prepared.” 

The second attendant seemed incapable of re- 
maining silent — after the manner of sorry men. 
“It will be quite simple, sir,” he said. 

Hubert de Burgh (for the soldierly-appearing 
man was he) turned upon them fiercely. 
“Enough!” he exclaimed. “I don’t know how 
men of your breed go about a task like this, but 
Hubert de Burgh has always faced the truth. 
Listen: When you’ve fetched me the hot iron 
you’ll hide behind the tapestry there. And when 
I stamp on the floor you’ll come quickly and 
bind him hand and foot.” 

The first attendant found courage to say: 
“Bind him ? A little lad like that ? A man might 
do the job with one hand without half trying.” 
But Hubert de Burgh gazed at the man darkly. 

“Look you, fellow,” he said, “there are forces 
160 


THE HAND OF A CHAMBERLAIN 


besides a man’s hands which are powerful. His 
very helplessness and innocence . . . I think they 
shall paralyze my hands and make me helpless. 
Do as I say : bind the boy ar\d stand near, ready 
to lend a hand.” 

Whereupon the first and second attendants 
withdrew, staring as if with terror at the un- 
opened door near which they had to pass. 

Hubert de Burgh took no further notice of 
them, but dropped into a chair and stared straight 
before him. 

At this point Mr. Literal began rubbing his 
hands and smiling with pleased excitement. “It 
seems,” he remarked to the Masked Lady, “that 
we’re to be in on a really famous event — ^the slay- 
ing of Prince Arthur. It’s a great opportunity 
of its kind. It will give me a chance to confute 
the historians who have quarreled among them- 
selves about how the poor boy met his death. 
How — er — how should you say he dies?” 

The Masked Lady replied tranquilly; “He 
does not die. He lives forever to proclaim to 
all mankind that the way of kings is an evil way.” 

It was now that Hubert de Burgh bestirred 


EVERYCHILD 


himself as if he could no longer bear to be alone 
with his thoughts. He cried out sharply — 
“Arthur! Arthur!” 

The second door now opened and Prince 
Arthur appeared : a handsome boy, perhaps four- 
teen years of age, straight of limb and noble of 
countenance. He wore a velvet suit, including 
knee breeches and silk hose and gaiters, and a 
jacket with a flowing lace collar. 

He regarded Hubert de Burgh with dull eyes 
which slowly began to brighten. “Oh, it’s you!” 
he cried after a pause. And then, “If you could 
know how glad I am to see you!” And then, 
falteringly, “Hubert — when you were a boy, were 
you ever kept hidden away as if you meant ill 
to every one?” 

And now he approached Hubert with a wist- 
ful air, and leaned against his knee, and placed 
his hand on his shoulder. 

But the chamberlain flinched beneath the 
weight of that light hand. “There, there, Arthur! 
— ^take your hand away!” he said. And then, 
with an attempt to be severe, “We’ll have none 
of that, you know!” 


162 


THE HAND OF A CHAMBERLAIN 


Prince Arthur pondered, and then his eyes 
brightened. ‘T’m glad you said that, Hubert,” 
he declared. “If you feel that way toward me 
you can tell me why — ^why all the others feel so. 
Every face I look into seems either to pity or 
to hate me; and I’d so like people to be friendly. 
Tell me, why must I take my hand away?” 

The stern man plucked at his beard thought- 
fully; and suddenly he turned to the boy with a 
quality of stern candor which was a true prince’s 
due. “Listen, boy,” he said. “It is the fate of 
kings to tremble at many things : at the too great 
misery of their subjects, at their too great lib- 
erty ; at the touch of those who claim to be friends, 
at the whisper of a foe’s voice. They have taught 
themselves that they rule by divine right, yet 
they move by day and by night like any thief 
who carries booty beneath his cloak when he walks 
before those in authority, or like one who is 
wounded unto death who would hide his wound 
from a strong adversary. Your Uncle John 
fears you, Arthur, because his throne is yours 
by right — if there were such a thing as right to 

any throne. And he has willed that you must die. 

163 


EVERYCHILD 


He has appointed me . . . but there, I must to 
my task. No struggling, now — no resistence. It 
will be better so. The king’s will be done.” 

He would have summoned his attendants then, 
but Prince Arthur stayed him with one more 
question. ‘‘And how would you take my life, 
dear Hubert?” he asked in a gentle voice. 

But this the chamberlain would not tell him. 
Instead he stamped on the floor and the two at- 
tendants entered hurriedly, one bearing a hot 
iron and the other a cord with which to bind the 
prince’s hands and feet. “These,” said Hubert, 
“will make plain the manner of the deed.” 

But Arthur only clapped his hands in mirth. 
“It is your way of jesting, Hubert,” he said, “to 
amuse me.” But there was a catch in his voice 
as he continued, “It is your way of driving away 
the shadows which hang about me always. Dear 
Hubert, I know what a kind heart you have!” 

But despite these brave words he turned pale 
and suddenly clapped his hands to his eyes to 
shut out the terrible vision he had beheld. 

Hubert cried out huskily to the attendants, 
“Bind him — and be quick!” 

164 


THE HAND OF A CHAMBERLAIN 


With this the attendants seized the prince, one 
on either side. Yet they paused when they per- 
ceived that the prince wished to speak a final word 
to the chamberlain. The boy had turned upon 
Hubert a calm glance. A strange stillness had 
come over him. He spoke in a low, intense voice — 

“Do not permit them to bind me,” he said. 
“It would be shameful for a prince to be bound. 
I know you were not speaking in jest, but please 
do not let them bind me, as if I were a slave. 
I shall think of you as my friend — as long as 
my hands are free. Come, Hubert ... do you 
recall how, when your head once ached, I put my 
handkerchief about it to comfort you? It was 
one that a princess did make for me. Remember 
how I have loved you — and do not let them bind 
me !” 

His plea prevailed. “So — then they shall not !” 
cried Hubert. And to the attendants he ex- 
claimed fiercely, “Begone! Did I not bid you be 
swift, that the very blood in my veins should not 
turn to water? Fellows — begone! It may be 
that my task will be easier if I work alone and 
he resist me.” 


165 


EVERYCHlLD 


The two attendants turned in terror before 
the wrath of the chamberlain and fled. And be- 
fore Hubert had withdrawn his eyes from their 
retreating forms certain strange e.vents came to 
pass. 

The Masked Lady had remained, strangely 
tranquil, before the Book of Truth; but now she 
lifted her eyes, because the great windows with 
their leaded panes had been thrust open. Out- 
side the open windows there were revealed the 
head and shoulders of the giant, Will o’Dreams. 

The giant paused long enough to take in the 
scene before him, and then he disappeared in 
great agitation. 

A moment later he had reappeared and had 
lifted Everychild to a level with the window sill. 


166 


CHAPTER XIX 


HOW AN UNFORTUNATE PRINCE ESCAPED 

T he giant could be heard whispering to 
Everychild: ‘T cannot enter here. The 
things which are taking place in this room — ^they 
stagger me. But you may do so.” Whereupon 
he placed Everychild on the window sill and 
withdrew with a shudder. 

A light leap, and Everychild was in the room, 
advancing and taking in his surroundings with 
amazed eyes. But no one paid any attention to 
him. Hubert de Burgh stood near Prince Arthur, 
a smoking iron in his hand. The two attendants 
closed the door behind them with a crash. Then 
Arthur spoke again: 

‘T could not bear to have them looking, 
Hubert,” he said. “It will be easier, just we two 
alone. I am ready now.” 

It was then that Hubert gripped Arthur by 
the shoulder; he brought the hot iron close to 
167 


HOW A PRINCE ESCAPED 


his face. And then again his resolution failed 
him. His hand trembled ; he paused. Presently 
he was gazing away over the prince’s head, al- 
most as if he saw a vision, and his hand on the 
boy’s shoulder slowly relaxed. 

“A strange lad! — a strange lad!” he mused. 
And then looking wonderingly at Arthur he 
added, “The agony is gone from your eyes when 
you look at me now. And yet it is I who would 
destroy you — ^not those fellows who made you 
tremble so !” 

The prince drew himself up with unconscious 
pride. “I would rather suffer at the hands of 
those I love than receive benefits from hirelings,” 
he said. 

But Hubert shook his head darkly. “Hire- 
lings?” he repeated. “Ah, who is not a hireling, 
when a king may have his way? Who can call 
his honor his own, when a crown is counted a 
more sacred thing than a man’s soul?” He paused 
in silence again and then added almost banter- 
ingly — yet with a note of earnestness, too — 

“Come, boy, the young have wary eyes and swift 
168 


HOW A PRINCE ESCAPED 


feet. Can you not flee and escape from the wrath 
and fear of your uncle the King?” 

But Arthur shook his head. “I think when 
your work is done, dear Hubert,” he said, “the 
fear of the king and his wrath will trouble me 
no more.” 

Hubert frowned darkly. “That is an old 
man’s creed,” he cried. “It is monstrous that a 
child should welcome death!” 

He turned away from Arthur and fixed his 
blank eyes in the direction of Everychild. And 
presently he lifted his trembling hand to his brow, 
and there was the light of a terrible vision in his 
eyes. He began to speak like one in a dreadful 
dream — 

“Methinks I see the face of Everychild!” he 
mused. “Methinks that always the face of Every- 
child shall gaze upon me with horror and con- 
tempt because I slew this gentle lad. Nay, by 
my faith, I will not!” 

He thrust Arthur from him. “Go your way!” 
he cried. “Though there were a thousand King 
Johns, it shall also be said that there was one 
Hubert de Burgh. If heaven has set no bounds 
169 


EVERYCHILD 


to duty, then I owe a duty to myself as well as 
to the king. And if a child must needs teach me 
that there are things more terrible than death, 
then let me learn a lesson from this child who has 
the soul of a prince, though he may never wield 
the scepter of a king. Go free, boy. King John 
may have a thousand murderers, but it shall also 
be said of him that he had for chamberlain one 
who was a man,” 

With the tread of a soldier, undaunted and 
unashamed, he left the room. 

For a moment Arthur lifted his face with an 
expression of intense relief ; but little by little his 
eyes darkened again and his head drooped. 

“He has spared me — yet to what end?” he 
mused. “I have escaped for the moment, yet 
in a few days — on what day none may tell — a 
new jailor, a poisoned cup, a summons up a 
broken stairway in the dark, a ride on the river in 
a mist . . . Ah, woe is me ! How shall I really 
escape?” 

He stood disconsolate a moment, and then it 
seemed he saw Every child for the first time: 

170 


HOW A PRINCE ESCAPED 


Everychild, who came toward him, slowly yet 
with assurance. 

“You shall come with me,” said Everychild. 

And the prince replied indulgently, “With 
you, Everychild? But whither are you going?” 

“I fare forth to find the truth,” said Every- 
child. 

Arthur replied: “It seems you should be a 
prince if you would find it soon. I shall find the 
truth before you, Everychild.” 

“We shall find it together,” declared Every- 
child. 

“I was near finding it now,” said Arthur; “and 
even yet I cannot think it is far away.” 

But Everychild had gone to the window, evi- 
dently in the hope of seeing the giant. Will 
o ’Dreams; and while Arthur looked after him 
hopelessly, Mr. Literal took occasion to say to 
the Masked Lady — 

“He is as beautiful as tradition has pictured 
him. Small wonder that his foolish mother was 
moved to speak of him so eloquently. Do you 
remember? — 


171 


EVERYCHILD 


** ‘Grief fills the room up of my absent child. 
Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me. 
Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words. 
Remembers me of all his gracious parts. 
Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form: 
Then have I reason to be fond of grief/ ** 


Then the giant appeared at the window and 
there was a hurried conference between him and 
Everychild. Soon the latter turned confidently 
toward Arthur. 

“Come, you shall go with me,” said Every- 
child eagerly. 

It seemed for an instant that the prince was 
really hopeful. Then again his dark mood re- 
turned — ^the mood of one who believes he is lost. 
Yet nevertheless he put forth his hand to Every- 
child and said, “Yes, I will go with you.” 

He approached the window with slow, majestic 
tread. Once he shrank back and lifted his hands 
to his eyes. Then he climbed resolutely to the 
window sill. He could be seen for an instant, and 
then he disappeared. 

Seeing that he had vanished, Everychild hur- 
ried to the window, his face elated. “Splendid!” 

172 


HOW A PRINCE ESCAPED 


he cried. “Now he shall be my companion to 
the end of time!” 

Then the giant could be seen at the window. 
He put forth his hands and lifted Everychild 
through the window. 

A moment, and then Hubert de Burgh re- 
entered the room. He cast a swift, agitated 
glance about the room, and soon he noted the 
open window. 

“The window !” he cried in a loud voice, “God 
save us all!” 

He stood staring at the open window; and as 
he did so the Masked Lady hid her face in her 
arms upon the Book of Truth before her. She 
was softly weeping. 


173 


.It 




PART IF 


argument: everychild’s feet are drawn to 

THE SPOT WHERE THE SLEEPING BEAUTY IN 
THE WOOD LIES. TIME PASSES. 



CHAPTER XX 

A SONG IN THE GARDEN 

T^^HILE Everychild and the giant had 
^ ^ made their visit to the castle of the cruel 
king, their companions had remained in the old 
house at the foot of the hill, and great was their 
delight when the two who had been absent re- 
turned, bringing with them Prince Arthur, to- 
ward whom all the children felt immediately 
drawn. 

It was quickly decided that the prince should 
be allowed to rest before they resumed their 
journey; and as they were very comfortable 
where they were, they agreed not to stir until 
the next day. They still had an abundance to 
eat; and besides, they had not yet explored the 
walled garden, very shady and inviting, which 
they could see from the kitchen windows. 

In the afternoon, then, they all invaded the 
walled garden, where they found much to glad- 
177 


EVERYCHILD 


den their hearts. The juniper trees were quite 
perfect; and the flowers, though they had been 
so long neglected, seemed really to have been 
waiting for them. The different kinds of flowers 
each had a bed of their own; the larkspur and 
poppies and coxcomb and hollyhocks and colum- 
bines, and each seemed to lean forward and say, 
“Come and see us! Come and see us!” And so 
the children made the rounds of the garden, 
visiting each variety of flower. 

At last they sat down on the stone benches 
which surrounded a flne grass-plot with an an- 
cient sundial in the middle. 

Many of the children were content to sit quietly 
and rest; but Little Bo-Peep and Little Boy 
Blue, being very young, and naturally rather 
playful, could not restrain themselves, and they 
took their places on the grass and began to play. 
They looked simply charming: Little Bo-Peep 
being dressed in a white frock with short sleeves 
having any number of flounces. She wore a 
Gainesborough hat of delicate materials, with 

cherry ribbons ending in tassels of the same color 
178 


A SONG IN THE GARDEN 


hanging down behind. She also wore red slip- 
pers having buckles set with rubies. 

Little Boy Blue was arrayed in blue rompers, 
cunningly made of one piece, and very ample. 

It seemed that they had long resided close to 
each other, and had often played together; and 
now, almost without any pre-arrangement at all, 
they began a game which consisted of singing 
and dancing. 

They stood facing each other on the grass, and 
Little Boy Blue began the following song: 


**Oh, Little Bo-Peep, when the sun in shining 
And the birds are up in the tree ; 

When there’s never a cause for sad repining. 

And we’re happy as we can be; 

When breezes blow through the vale and hollow. 
And glade and garden and glen, 

Oh, whom does your heart in its rapture follow. 
And whom do you think of then?” 


Little Bo-Peep listened, smiling, and with her 
head a little to one side, until the stanza was 
finished, and then she replied as follows : 

“Oh, Little Boy Blue, when the skies are beaming 
And my heart is happy and free. 

When the green grass smiles, where it lies a-dreaming. 
And the birds are up in the tree, 

179 


EVERYCHILD 


I lift my eyes to the arch above us, 

So soft and tender and blue. 

And I know that the earth and the sky both love us. 
And I tenderly think of you. 

Of you. 

Of you, of you, of you !** 

Then they both bowed graciously and began 
their dance. They advanced toward each other 
so that the palms of their right hands touched; 
and then they receded, moving obliquely; and 
then advanced again, touching the palms of their 
left hands. A moment later they had clasped 
both hands, holding them high, and were hop- 
ping about in a circle. 

But it seemed that the song was not yet fin- 
ished; and presently they were facing each other 
again, and Little Bo-Peep sang the following 
stanza : 

“Oh, Little Boy Blue, when the star of even 
Hangs low o’er the lonely hill. 

When the night-wind sighs through the fields of heaven 
And the world is lonely and still; 

When you almost fear that the birds and flowers 
Will never waken again. 

And you lie and dream through the long night hours. 

Oh, whom do you dream of then? 

No sooner had Little Bo-Peep completed her 

stanza than Little Boy Blue responded; 

180 



They began a game which consisted of singing and dancing 




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A SONG IN THE GARDEN 


“Oh, Little Bo-Peep, from my friendly pillow 
I gaze at the even star; 

Then I sail away on a gentle billow. 

Where dreaming and visions are. 

And never a doubt nor a fear assails me 
The whole of the long night through. 

And the welcomest dream of all ne’er fails me. 
For I constantly dream of you. 

Of you. 

Of you, of you, of you !“ 


They repeated their dance at the end, and 
then, blushing and stumbling, they made their 
way to one of the stone benches and sat down. 

All the children applauded generously; but 
during the silence which followed, Grettel re- 
marked: 

“For my part, I like games that have kissing 
in them.” 

Cinderella merely gazed at her, in reply to this, 
with lifted chin and half-closed eyes. 

Then Hansel observed: “If you’d leave it to 
me, I’d prefer sitting at a table where there’d 
be something left after you’d filled yourself as 
full as a drum.” 

Prince Arthur seemed to feel that Hansel 

and Grettel had struck a wrong note, and he 
181 


EVERYCHILD 


said, “Upon my word, it seemed to me that the 
singing and dancing weren’t half bad!” 

“They were just perfect,” declared Everychild. 

“That’s really what Arthur meant,” interposed 
Will o’Dreams. 

There was almost unanimous agreement then 
that the song and dance had been very well done, 
the strongest testimony of all being offered by 
the little black dog, who approached Little Boy 
Blue and asked, quite as plainly as if he had 
spoken, to have the entertainment prolonged. 

But as the entire band hoped to be on their 
way early in the morning, it was agreed, after a 
time, that a good night’s sleep was the best thing 
they could have ; and as the sun had now set, they 
went into the house, and each chose a place in 
which to spend the night. 

The clamor of voices soon sank to a sleepy 
murmiu*; and presently there was such silence 
that the house might indeed have been a haunted 
one, just as the village superstition held it to be. 

There would have been nothing more worth 
recording in the adventures of that day but for 

the fact that Everychild, at the last moment, 
182 


A SONG IN THE GARDEN 


felt an irresistible desire to explore the attic of 
the old house. And this he undertook to do, 
after all his companions had, as he supposed, 
fallen asleep. 


183 


CHAPTER XXI 

AN ENCOUNTER IN THE ATTIC 

H e moved stealthily about the upper story 
of the house, trying this door and that. He 
did not wish to disturb his companions, for he 
knew that a sound in the dark would startle them, 
especially after they had been told of the rumor 
that the house was haunted. 

The first and second doors he tried opened 
into empty rooms. The third and fourth, into 
closets. But the fifth opened to a narrow stair- 
case ; and ascending this on tip-toe, he presently 
found himself in the attic. 

It was a very solemn place. The eaves sloped 
down closely as if they were a sort of hood, meant 
to hide something evil. There was one window 
at the gable end: a broken window, with frag- 
ments of glass lying about it. The light of the 

moon penetrated the window, making the frag- 
184 . 


AN ENCOUNTER IN THE ATTIC 


ments of glass glisten, and forming a pale avenue 
across the dusty floor. 

There were old chests here and there, all mys- 
teriously closed — perhaps locked. There were 
old garments hanging in obscure places. They 
made you think of persons lurking there in the 
dark. Outside the broken window an owl in a 
dark tree hooted mournfully. 

Everychild crossed the attic cautiously. Tim- 
bers creaked beneath his feet. The smell of old, 
abandoned things arose. And suddenly he 
stopped short and clinched his hands. Beyond 
a pale haze of moonbeams he saw some one sit- 
ting on one of the closed chests. 

That form in the gloom was perfectly motion- 
less ; and for a time Everychild tried to convince 
himself that here was simply another delusion — 
that certain old articles of furniture or clothing 
had been so arranged as to suggest the form of 
a human being. 

But no, this could scarcely be. Every outline 
of the figure was too real. And besides, the 
person on the chest now moved slightly. 

Everychild forced himself to advance a step, to 
185 


EVERYCHILD 


move to right and to left, that he might learn 
something of that person who sat there in mys- 
terious silence. And suddenly he found himself 
smiling and relaxing. 

It was Will o’Dreams who sat there ! 

The giant had seen him at last, and he called 
out pleasantly, “You here too, Everychild? Come 
and sit down. There’s room for two here on 
this old chest.” 

“I didn’t know you were here,” said Every- 
child. 

“It’s the very sort of place I like to visit,” 
was the reply. “If ever you miss me, you’ve 
only to hunt for an old attic near by, and there 
you’ll find me.” 

“I wonder why?” asked Everychild. 

“Ah, I scarcely know. But a great many 
lovely persons come up into old attics — ^mostly 
children, or else quite old men or women — and I 
think they like to find me at such times.” 

“And do you never frighten them?” 

The giant laughed. “I’ve no doubt I do, some- 
times. But mostly I am of real help to them. 
The old things that are left in attics seem some- 
186 


AN ENCOUNTER IN THE ATTIC 


how different if I’m about. Some day you’ll 
understand what I mean. And the sounds you 
hear in an attic, and the thoughts that come to 
you, seem pleasant in a way, as long as I’m 
near by.” 

Everychild realized immediately that this was 
true; for at that very moment the owl in the 
dark tree outside the broken window hooted — 
and the sound was not at all what it had been 
only a little while ago. 

“It’s fine to hear the owl make a noise like 
that, isn’t it?” he asked of the giant. 

“Is it?” replied Will o’Dreams with a kindly 
taunt in his voice. “Suppose you tell me why.” 

“I’m not sure I can. But you know it makes 
you think of so many wonderful and strange 
things.” 

“Of what?” persisted the giant. 

Everychild pondered a little, and then it 
seemed that he saw a sort of vision. “It makes 
you think of dark forests,” he said, “ — ^the very 
middle of them. And it makes you think of old 

ruined castles, with nothing living about them 
187 


EVERYCHILD 

any more but the ivy climbing up on the broken 
walls.” 

The giant’s eyes were shining in the gloom. 
“And what else?” he asked softly. 

“And then you think of the castles as they 
used to be, long ago. When there were bright 
lights in them, and knights and ladies, and music, 
and maybe a — what do you call them? — a harper 
to come in out of the storm to sit beside the fire- 
place and tell tales.” He seemed unable to fill in 
the picture more completely, but Will o’Dreams 
began where he had left off: 

“And do you know what is true, as long as 
you think of the knights and ladies? It means 
that they are still living. That’s what thinking 
of things means — it means keeping them alive. 
Most persons die when their children are all dead : 
at the very latest, when their grandchildren die. 
But as long as you think of knights and ladies, 
and picture their ways, why, that keeps them 
alive. It means that they will never die. That 
is, as long as there are owls to hoot.” He added 
with a hidden smile, “And as long as I idle about 
in old attics.” 


188 


AN ENCOUNTER IN THE ATTIC 


“It is very strange,” said Everychild, not clear- 
ly understanding. 

“It just needs a little thinking about,” de- 
clared the giant. “And it’s not only in attics that 
I’m able to help. That old garden we played 
in to-day ... do you know what would happen, 
if certain persons came into it while I was there?” 

As Everychild did not know, the giant con- 
tinued: “They would see the columbine growing; 
and straightway they would think of a poor lady 
named Ophelia; and then they would think of 
Shakespeare; and then they would think of the 
river Avon ; and then they would think of lovely 
English meadows, and then they would think of 
the sea — because the Avon finally reaches it, you 
know — and then they would think of ships, and 
then of Columbus, and then of America, and 
then of millions of new gardens where the colum- 
bine of England found new homes.” 

Everychild was trying to see the pictures as 
they passed; but he could not quite keep up. 
And after Will o’Dreams had finished he re- 
mained silent, going over it all in his mind. 

But the giant interrupted him. “There,” he 
189 


EVERYCHILD 


said, “we ought not to stay up too late. You 
know we want to make an early start to-morrow.” 

Everychild’s heart prompted him to say im- 
pulsively, “And you’ll go on with us? You’ll 
not get tired and leave us on the way?” 

The giant pondered a moment, and then he 
replied: “No. My search will carry me as far 
as your search is to carry you.” 

“You haven’t told me what it is you’re search- 
ing for,” said Everychild. 

There was a long silence, and then the giant 
replied: “I scarcely liked to speak of it; yet if 
we are to be friends, perhaps I may do so. The 
truth is, I am seeking my mother.” 

Everychild felt a little thrilled. He recalled 
what Mr. Literal had said of the giant — ^how he 
had been driven away from home because of the 
evil he had done. He had refused to believe 
what Mr. Literal had said; yet what was the 
meaning of what the giant was now saying? 

“I lost my mother long ago,” the giant re- 
sumed. “I can’t explain just how it was. But 
there were many who mistrusted me in my child- 
hood and believed I wasn’t up to any good. They 
190 


AN ENCOUNTER IN THE ATTIC 


said I was made up of lies. They drove me from 
their houses and closed their doors on me. And 
my mother and I got lost from each other. From 
that day to this I have had bad days when IVe 
feared that all my enemies ever said about me 
was true. But it is only occasionally I have a 
a bad day. You see, I remember my mother’s 
ways so well that it seems almost as if she were 
with me, much of the time. But I know well that 
if I could find her, never to lose her again, I 
should never have another evil thought. And so 
it is that I constantly dream of finding her, and 
go about the world seeking her. And I never 
see a beautiful lady without stopping to ask my- 
self in a whisper, ‘Can it be she?’ ” 

“Was she so beautiful, then?” asked Every- 
child. 

“Ah, I cannot tell you how beautiful. So 
straight and tall and brave, yet with a great ten- 
derness a little hidden from sight. Her lips 
curved a little, mournfully, as if she had been 
singing a sad song; yet there was an expression 
in her eyes — a soft, calm expression, which made 
everything seem right when you looked into them. 

101 


EVERYCHILD 

There are even now moments when I feel . . . 
I scarcely know how to explain it to you. It’s 
as if she were near by, whispering, and I couldn’t 
think just where to look for her.” 

“I’ll help you to look for her,” said Everychild 
heartily. And then together they quit the attic 
and went cautiously down the narrow staircase. 

Only a few moments later they had taken their 
places among their companions and had fallen 
asleep. 


192 


CHAPTER XXII 


THE END OF A HUNDRED YEARS 

f I ^HEY all resumed their journey at sunrise, 
carrying with them a fair supply of food 
which the townspeople had brought ; and by noon 
they had crossed the boundary into a different 
kingdom, where the cruelties of the wicked King 
John were wholly unknown, and where Prince 
Arthur became almost the gayest member of the 
band. 

Late in the afternoon they came within sight 
of another castle; and as they were now journey- 
ing through a very lonely region, they decided 
that it would be a wise plan to apply at this place 
for accommodations for the night. 

Somewhat to their dismay, however, they dis- 
covered upon drawing nearer that the castle was 
surrounded by a forest so dense that not even 
the smallest member of the band could penetrate 
between the trunks and branches. Nor did there 
193 


EVERYCHILD 


seem to be a road for them to take, the only thing 
resembling a road having been abandoned so long 
that it was quite overgrown. 

It was here that Will o’Dreams found oppor- 
tunity to render a most important service. With- 
out the slighest spirit of boasting he stepped for- 
ward, saying, “Follow me!” 

To the amazement of all, the trees parted so 
that a way was opened and the entire band now 
found it quite easy to follow in the footsteps of 
the giant. 

Together they all began to climb the hill in the 
direction of the mysterious castle. 

But while the children are wending their way 
up the hill, let us take leave of them for a time, 
that we may have a peep at one of the rooms of 
the castle. 

The room has been described as “the finest 
room in a king’s palace,” and while this would 
seem a somewhat exaggerated statement, there 
were at least many evidences of elegance to be 
noted. 

Rich tapestries hung about the walls. They 
194 


THE END OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


presented certain stories from mythology in the 
form of pictures traced in golden threads. There 
were golden candlesticks, and even the chairs and 
tables were of gold. 

At the far side of the room, which was very 
large, there appeared to be a soii: of alcove before 
which a damask curtain was closely drawn. 

Before this curtain sat a lady of honor. She 
seemed a very great person indeed, her dress 
being inferior only to that of a queen in richness 
and elegance. She had a double chin and a very 
large stomach, which in her day were considered 
quite suitable to a person in her position. 

Somewhat out of keeping with the golden 
furniture and the rich tapestries was the great 
fireplace containing an almost commonplace 
crane and kettle, and bordered by irregular areas 
of smoked wood and stone, indicating that the 
ventilation of the room needed looking after in 
the worst way. 

In addition to the lady of honor there were 
other persons in the room: a scullion, or cook, 
with rather comical features and a red nose, who 
sat before the fireplace ; a line of guards in mailed 
195 


EVERYCHILD 


armor who were stationed around the walls, 
finely erect, with spears held perpendicularly, 
their ends resting on the floor; and a herald, or 
messenger, standing just inside an inner door. 

But — wonderful to relate — ^the lady of honor, 
the scullion, the guards in mail, and the herald, 
were all sound asleep! Moreover, they had all 
been sound asleep for precisely one hundred 
years. 

I should add that two other individuals al- 
ready known to us were in the room : the Masked 
Lady and Mr. Literal. The Masked Lady held 
in her hands a time-glass precisely like an hour- 
glass in every respect, save that it was designed 
to measure the passage of a full century. The 
last grains of sand were just falling when she 
looked up, startled, because Mr. Literal had 
broken the stillness by yawning. He was plainly 
bored, and he was looking about the room at the 
various sleepers as if he were thoroughly tired 
of them all. 

After Mr. Literal had finished his yawn a 
truly unearthly silence reigned. There wasn’t 
so much as the ticking of a clock or the falling 
196 


THE END OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


of embers in the fireplace. Silence, a long, long 
silence. 

Then a distant door opened and closed sharply. 
There was the muffled tramp of many feet. And 
then — ^what have we here? Everychild entered 
the room! 

He was followed instantly by Cinderella, Han- 
sel and Grettel, Will o’Dreams, Prince Arthur, 
Tom Hubbard, Little Bo-Peep, Little Boy Blue, 
the children of the Old Woman who lived in a 
shoe (who numbered some forty boys and girls 
all told), and last of all, the little black dog. 

There was necessarily a good deal of bustle 
and noise while the members of the band were 
entering; but when Everychild had had time to 
look about him he was smitten with silence, and 
all his companions suddenly became as quiet 
as mice. 

Then Everychild perceived the Masked Lady, 
and for once he was very glad to see her. He ap- 
proached her eagerly, if somewhat timidly. 

“What is this strange place?’’ he whispered. 

And as the Masked Lady did not reply to him, 
1.97 


EVERYCHILD 

he turned to Cinderella. “Am I — are we — 
dreaming?” he asked. 

Cinderella reassured him promptly. “We are 
not dreaming,” she said. “I have seen other 
places as beautiful. The ballroom where I danced 
— it might have been in this very castle. Yet 
how strange it is to find them all asleep !” And 
she gazed about the room with amused wonder. 

“And the way the forest opened as we climbed 
the hill,” added Everychild, “just as if we were 
expected. Did anything like it ever happen be- 
fore?” 

The Masked Lady remarked almost dreamily : 
“When Everychild seeks the place where the 
Sleeping Beauty lies, forests always open and 
the steepest paths are easy to climb.” 

Everychild caught at the name. “The Sleep- 
ing Beauty — I have heard of her,” he said. And 
he added, “Is she here?” 

The Masked Lady did not reply in words, but 
the obscure smile on her lips was very signifi- 
cant. 

It was Cinderella who clasped her hands in 
sudden ecstacy and cried, “She must be here. A 
198 


THE END OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


place so lovely — it couldn’t have been meant for 
any one else !” She spoke with such elation that 
all the other children looked at her with beam- 
ing eyes. 

Everychild asked in perplexity — “But if she 
be here . . . ?” 

“You haven’t forgotten, have you?” asked 
Cinderella. “She was doomed to sleep a hundred 
years, until the prince came to waken her with a 
kiss.” 

“And is she still waiting?” asked Everychild. 

“I haven’t a doubt in the world that she is 
still waiting.” 

“She is always waiting,” said the dreamy voice 
of the Masked Lady. 

“But not — not here?” asked Everychild. 

“There’s never any telling where you’ll find 
things,” replied Cinderella. “We might look, at 
least.” 

No one had observed that the Masked Lady 
had straightened up with a very dramatic ges- 
ture. The sand in the glass she held had all 
fallen! 

No sooner had she spoken than Cinderella 
199 


EVERYCHILD 


advanced to the alcove hidden by the damask 
curtain. The other children watched her intently. 
She barely touched the curtain — ^yet it was drawn 
aside. And everything within the alcove became 
visible. 

There was a perfectly beautiful bed, all 
trimmed with gold and silver lace, so it is said. 
And on it reposed a slight, queen-like young lady, 
fully dressed, yet sound asleep. Her cheeks were 
delicately tinted, indicating perfect health. Her 
lips were slightly parted; her bosom rose and 
fell tranquilly. A naked little Cupid knelt on 
her pillow, his wings aloft, his eyes intently in- 
specting her closed eyelids. 

Everychild seemed really to lose control of 
himself. He gazed, and then he advanced in a 
manner so determined that Cinderella drew back, 
leaving him alone with the sleeper, save for the 
Cupid on the pillow and the lady of honor asleep 
in her chair. 

‘Tt is the Sleeping Beauty!” exclaimed Every- 
child. Somehow or other he knew positively. He 
knelt down beside her and gazed at her rever- 
ently. Slowly and gently he reached for the 
200 


THE END OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


hand nearest him. He took it into his own; and 
then — he never could have told what put it into 
his head to do so! — he shyly kissed the beautiful 
hand. 

And the Sleeping Beauty? She sighed and 
opened her eyes. For an instant she gazed dream- 
ily at the ceiling. Then she sat up, placing her 
feet on the floor. With wonder and delight she 
leaned a little forward, her eyes flxed on Every- 
child’s. 

And then she said, in a voice which would 
have set the birds to singing, if there had been any 
near by — 

“Is it you, my prince? You have waited a 
long while!” 


201 


CHAPTER XXIII 

THE AWAKENING 

N O sooner had the Sleeping Beauty spoken 
than a number of things began to happen. 
The other sleepers in the room opened their 
eyes. 

The lady of honor was the first to attract at- 
tention. She stirred and placed her fingers 
against her lips in a very elegant manner to sup- 
press a yawn. Then she exclaimed very audibly : 
“Bless my soul — I must have dropped off for a 
moment!” 

The sergeant of the guard was seen to open his 
eyes and glare very suspiciously at the spear- 
bearer nearest to him. He exclaimed, upon not- 
ing the stupid expression in the spear-bearer’s 
eyes — “Ah-ha! I caught you asleep, did I?” 

To which the spear-bearer replied nervously, 
“Not to say asleep, exactly. I just closed my 
eyes because a bit of smoke got into them.” 

202 


THE AWAKENING 


The scullion by the fireplace opened his eyes 
and sat quite still for an instant, all his atten- 
tion concentrated upon the others in the room, at 
whom, however, he was afraid to look. It was 
his aim to conceal from them the fact that he had 
been asleep. 

The kettle on the crane in the fireplace began 
to sing cheerfully and an appetizing odor arose. 
Flames began to dance in the fireplace. 

The lady of honor with affected testiness ad- 
dressed the Sleeping Beauty. “It’s high time 
you were stirring, I should say,” was her com- 
ment. “It seems to me we are all becoming quite 
indolent!” 

The Sleeping Beauty would not respond to her 
mood of bustling levity. She gazed wonderingly 
and patiently at the lady of honor; and then 
turning her attention to Everychild she said in a 
dreamy voice — 

“I think I shall rise!” 

She offered her hand to Everychild, and he as- 
sisted her to her feet. I am informed that “he 
took care not to tell her that she was dressed like 
her great-grandmother, and had a point band 
203 


EVERYCHILD 


peeping over a high collar.” My own belief is 
that perhaps he scarcely noticed this. 

They moved forward, the Sleeping Beauty 
maintaining an air of dreaminess, while Every- 
child simply could not remove his eyes from her 
— she was so perfect! 

All the others in the room were silent, gazing 
now at the Sleeping Beauty, and now at Every- 
child. 

And just at that moment there were evidences 
of new life in the adjoining apartments. You 
could hear some one playing on a spinnet. A 
sentry on a distant wall called the hour. Lords 
and ladies could be heard laughing together. And 
then there was a great to-do : the king and queen, 
father and mother of the Sleeping Beauty, en- 
tered the room! 

There was now a respectful silence for you! 
You could have heard a pin drop. Little train- 
bearers came behind the king and queen. Then 
came lords and ladies, and then the court cham- 
berlain, and at last a few others whose functions 
I cannot even name. 

The king was pleased to speak presently. “And 
204 


THE AWAKENING 

so you have finished your nap, daughter?” he 
said. 

The Sleeping Beauty stood before him with a 
radiant face. “And only observe who it was that 
awakened mel” she replied, inclining her head 
toward Everychild. 

Said the king: “He is the guest whose coming 
was foretold, no doubt. Long ago it was written 
that one should awaken you and claim you as 
his bride.” 

There was general delight and amazement at 
this ; so frankly manifested that the humblest of 
Everychild’s companions lost all sense of cau- 
tion. The smallest son of the Old Woman who 
lived in a shoe actually undertook to stand on his 
head, while the little black dog ran here and 
there barking with the utmost freedom. 

In the general excitement Mr. Literal took oc- 
casion to remark to the Masked Lady: “But — 
dear me! — ^it’s all fiction of the most extravagant 
character — the account of the Sleeping Beauty 
and the rest of it!” 

But the Masked Lady smiled in her puzzling 
way and said: “When you would find the truth 

205 


EVERYCHILD 


perfectly told, you will always find it in a story. 
It is only facts which lead us hopelessly astray.’’ 

However, the Sleeping Beauty was speaking 
again. She was replying to what her father had 
said. “That’s very nice, I’m sure!” she said. 
And she turned to Everychild with a blissful 
smile. 

It seemed the king did not mean that any 
time should be lost. He turned majestically to 
the sergeant of the guard. “Go,” said he, “and 
bid the trumpeter summon all within hearing to 
assemble in the chapel.” Then, to those who 
were assembled in the room, “The wedding shall 
take place without delay. Let us to the chapel.” 

The sergeant disappeared, and almost imme- 
diately there was the sound of a bugle blowing on 
the castle wall. 

The king and queen went out, followed by their 
train-bearers, pages and others. 

Everychild hesitated; but the Sleeping 
Beauty, with a reassuring nod, took his hand, 
and they followed. 

There was a moment’s confusion among 
Everychild’s companions; but they speedily got 
206 


THE AWAKENING 


themselves into line. Will o’Dreams led them; 
and there followed Hansel and Grettel, Little 
Bo-Peep and Little Boy Blue, Prince Arthur 
and Tom Hubbard, the children of the Old 
Woman who lived in a shoe, and last of all the 
little black dog. 

Only Cinderella, with a certain strange quiet 
upon her, remained in her place, while the 
Masked Lady and Mr. Literal stood regarding 
her. 

Words broke from her tremulously: “And so 
it is to be the Sleeping Beauty! I had hoped 
. . . there was to be one who would find my 
crystal slipper and come for me ...” 

She had scarcely uttered the words when the 
Masked Lady stepped forward and touched her 
face with gentle fingers and kissed her brow. 

A happy transformation occurred in Cin- 
derella’s face. She stood gazing into vacancy a 
moment, her eyes shining. An instant later she 
dashed from the room, to be present at the wed- 
ding ceremony. Already, in the distance, the 
strains of the Lohengrin march could be heard. 

The Masked Lady would have gone into the 
207 


EVERYCHILD 


chapel then, but she was detained by Mr. Literal, 
who said irritably: “That march — ^you know it’s 
really quite modern. Wagner, isn’t it?” 

The Masked Lady replied with a certain re- 
pression: “Beautiful things are never modern — 
yet always modern. They have existed always, 
from the dawn of time, waiting for the proper 
occasion for their use. Come, I must be present 
at the wedding of Everychild.” 

“Still,” said Mr. Literal drily, “I should say 
there have been many weddings at which you 
were not present.” 

But she was not listening. She had gone ; and 
he smilingly followed. 

The sound of music gradually died away. 
There was a distant murmur of voices. Then 
again the music sounded, louder, with a quality 
of triumph in it. Louder and louder it sounded. 

The bridal party returned! Flower girls ran 
before, scattering flowers. Everychild and the 
Sleeping Beauty appeared, followed by the king 
and queen. 

A great throng entered the room: lords and 
208 


THE AWAKENING 


ladies, the companions of Everychild, led now 
by Cinderella. 

The bride and the bridegroom were surround- 
ed. They were acclaimed in loud voices. They 
were lifted aloft. The little black dog barked 
madly. 

Such a scene had never been witnessed before. 


209 


CHAPTER XXIV 


TIME PASSES 

T he same room in the castle — ^the room where 
the pomp and ceremony had been. 

But it was empty now. The flowers which had 
been scattered on the floor had been swept away. 
Silence reigned. 

Presently two doors opened : one on the right, 
the other on the left. But though the doors 
opened, not a sound was to be heard, and for an 
instant no one appeared. 

And then — some one was coming. 

Father Time entered at one of the doors. He 
walked slowly and quietly across the room. He 
carried his scythe and sand-glass. He glanced 
neither to left nor right. 

He went out at the other door! 


210 


PART V 


argument: on his wanderings everychild be- 
thinks HIM OF HIS PARENTS, AND DISCOVERS 
THAT THOUGH HE HAS SEEMED TO LOSE 
THEM, HE HAS NOT REALLY DONE SO. 





CHAPTER XXV 

WILL O’DREAMS REPORTS A DISCOVERY 

T ^ 7E have seen how time passed in the castle 
^ ▼ where Everychild and his companions 
had come to dwell. Now let us see what fol- 
lowed. 

On a beautiful summer day Everychild and the 
Sleeping Beauty sat in the great room of the 
golden furniture and the fire place and the alcove. 
They occupied two little golden chairs near the 
middle of the room. They were rocking placidly 
and saying nothing to each other. Now they 
rocked backward and forward together, and 
again they rocked quite contrariwise. 

And what have we here ? Close to the Sleeping 
Beauty there was a tiny cradle, all of gold. And 
in it — ^well, you could see tresses of wonderful 
golden hair, and the most marvelous blue eyes 
which would open and shut, and a complexion 


EVERYCHILD 

which was simply perfect. Just now the eyes 
were closed. 

At a little distance from them there was a spec- 
tacle most beautiful to behold. This was afforded 
by the Masked Lady and the task in which she 
was engaged. She stood near an immense open 
window, beside the most beautiful dove-cote ever 
seen. It was silver and green, topping a pillar 
of gold. It had several compartments, all con- 
taining pure white doves. These were engaged in 
bringing or carrying messages. At intervals 
doves entered the open window ^nd perched on 
the Masked Lady’s arms. These were placed in 
the cote and others were removed from the cote 
and carried to the window, from which they flew 
away and disappeared. 

While the Masked Lady was engaged in this 
task it was to be noted that there was a v^ry sad 
expression in her eyes. She was turning over 
certain things in her mind. 

The truth is that Everychild had been married 
just a year, and she was thinking how it would be 
necessary before long for him to be conducted 
to the grim Mountain of Reality. She knew that 

214 


A DISCOVERY 


this was a very terrible experience, or that it 
would seem so just at first; and that is why there 
was a sad expression in her eyes. She knew very 
well, however, that the matter could not be put 
off very much longer. Indeed, she had been able 
to detect an occasional shadow in Everychild’s 
eyes which proved that he was already beginning 
to see the formidable Mountain of Reality in 
the distance. I should also explain that the mes- 
sages she was sending and receiving with the 
aid of the white doves all had a bearing upon the 
plan she had in mind of taking Everychild, ere 
long, upon the most difficult journey he was 
ever to make. 

Although silence reigned in the room, there was 
the murmur of children’s voices in the distance, 
occasionally rising to a joyous shout. The chil- 
dren were clearly at play in some invisible court ; 
and when their cries were particularly joyous, 
Everychild and the Sleeping Beauty glanced at 
each other and smiled indulgently. 

At length the voices of the children became 
inaudible; and a moment later Cinderella en- 
tered the room. She stood an instant, her hands 
215 


EVERYCHILD 


on her hips and an almost impatient expression 
in her eyes ; and then she approached Everychild 
and the Sleeping Beauty. 

Everychild glanced up at her with a slightly 
patronizing smile. “Well, Cinderella?” he 
asked. 

She put her hair back rather energetically and 
exclaimed — “Oh, I’m bored. That’s the honest 
truth. Those games out there — ^they do get so 
tiresome. And Grettel is such a simpleton, 
really. She keeps saying ‘Think of something 
else for us to play, Cinderella — ^think of some- 
thing else.’ She never thinks of anything her- 
self. Neither does Hansel, nor any of them.” 

She sighed and glanced back the way she had 
come, and it was to be noted that the soimd of 
playing had not beeen resumed. 

It was the Sleeping Beauty who replied. 
“Never mind, Cinderella,” she said. “You know 
I realize quite well what it is to be bored.” She 
had spoken gently; and now she smiled with a 
certain playfulness. “The prince with the miss- 
ing shpper will find you soon enough. You’ve 
216 


A DISCOVERY 


only to be patient, and the day will come when 
you’ll seldom be bored any more.” 

“I don’t know, I’m sure,” said Cinderella; and 
with perfect candor she added, “Aren’t you 
bored? You look it: sitting there as if you 
hadn’t a single thought in your head.” 

The Sleeping Beauty laughed. “You dear, 
foolish thing!” she replied. “Bored? The idea! 
I’m perfectly happy. Of course, there are times 
...” She broke off and meditated, and actu- 
ally sighed. “Come, we’ll go and look at the 
goldfish,” she added briskly. 

They went away together, taking cradle and 
all. All of a sudden they seemed as energetic 
as sparrows. They seemed for the moment really 
indifferent to Every child, who remained in his 
chair alone. 

When they had gone he leaned forward in an 
elegant yet somewhat dejected attitude, his hands 
clasped between his knees. Then he arose, shrug- 
ging his shoulders as if a burden were clinging to 
them, and turned toward the Masked Lady. 

“What are you doing?” he asked wonderingly. 

217 


EVERYCHILD 


She set free a fine dove, which immediately dis- 
appeared through the window. 

“I am getting ready for a very important 
journey,” she said. 

He watched her intently. Presently he said, 
in a strange, abashed tone, “You seem a very 
nice, kind lady, after all!” 

She did not reply to this, because a dove came 
in at that instant and she busied herself placing 
it in its compartment in the cote. 

He continued to regard her, though he was now 
studying her face, rather than taking note of her 
work with the doves. “Sometimes,” he continued 
falteringly, “I have a wish to speak to you — I 
mean, to tell you of things which I cannot speak 
of to others.” 

“I have tried always, Every child, to be close to 
you,” she said. 

For an instant it seemed to him that it would 
not be difficult at all to speak to her of what 
was in his heart. And he said, “You know I — I 
am not very happy.” 

She replied to this with gentle mockery. “Not 

happy?” she said; “and yet there are many to 
218 


A DISCOVERY 


play with you, and none to turn away from you 
with coldness and indifference — any more.” 

He became strangely still. What did she 
mean by that? He had never told her about his 
childhood; he had never mentioned his parents 
to her. Whom could she he, that she should 
know so many things without having to be told? 
Or was she speaking only of the present, with- 
out reference to the past? 

“My playmates are all friendly,” he said; “but 
you know I have come far from home . . . ” 

When he faltered she added, “But have you 
found what you started out to find?” 

He was a little embarrassed. “What I started 
out to find?” he echoed. “I don’t seem to re- 
member ” 

“You know you started out to find the truth,” 
she said. 

He nodded. “So I did,” he declared. “But 
so many things have happened, especially since 
I found the Sleeping Beauty, and it’s been so 
nice, most of the time ...” 

“Still, you shouldn’t give up, you know,” she 
said. “Maybe that’s the reason why you’re not 
219 


EVERYCHILD 

quite happy — ^because you haven’t found the 
truth.” 

He sighed heavily. She hadn’t comforted him, 
after all. And somehow he could not tell her 
that what ailed him was that he was heartsick 
to see his parents again. He remembered the 
pretty sitting room at home, and the way his 
father and mother used to look; and it seemed to 
him that if he could go back they would perhaps 
be happy to see him. But he could not speak of 
all this to the Masked Lady. 

He was greatly amazed when she said in a low 
tone : “It would be the same thing over again if 
you didn’t find the truth before you went back.” 

It was quite as if he had spoken his thoughts 
to her aloud! 

He drew away from her uneasily; but even as 
he did so she received another dove which flut- 
tered in at the window. And as she read the mes- 
sage it had brought she said musingly — almost as 
if she were reading the message, and not speaking 
to him at all — ^'Everychild shall find his parents 
againr 

He felt that he almost loved her when he heard 

220 


A DISCOVERY 


those words — almost, yet not quite. His heart 
beat more lightly. He wondered where all the 
children had gone. He listened for their voices. 

It was then that an outer door opened hur- 
riedly and the giant, Will o’Dreams, entered the 
room. Perceiving Everychild, he stood an in- 
stant with clinched hands and uplifted face ; and 
then he cried out in a loud voice : 

“Everychild!” 

And Everychild replied, with a little of that 
kindly condescension which a married man feels 
toward a youth, “Well, my boy?” 

The giant cried out with elation, “Everychild, 
I have found her house I” 

“You have found her house?” echoed Every- 
child in perplexity. 

“My mother’s house! I have seen it again! 
These many days, while you have been happy 
here, I have made countless journeys far and 
near. I made a final search. I could not give 
her up. And now I have found her house — 
the house where I dwelt when I was a child!” 

This was good news, indeed. Everychild knew 

how the heart of the giant had yearned for his 
221 


EVERYCHILD 


mother. He smiled delightedly. “Ah, and so 
you have seen her at last!” he cried. 

“I have not seen her — no,” confessed the giant. 
“They would not allow me to enter — ^they who 
surround her. I was but one, and they were 
many; and they are cruel and relentless. But 
now that I have found the place which shelters 
her I shall not give up until I stand face to face 
with her again. Dear Everychild . . .” 

“Well?” said Everychild, seeing that his friend 
found it very hard to continue. 

“I have come now to tell you we must part. I 
could not remain away, remembering that I had 
not bade you farewell. But now I go to watch 
for her until she emerges from her door, or until 
her followers slumber . . . Oh, the obstacles shall 
be as nothing. Only rejoice with me that I am 
to meet her again at last!” 

But Everychild’s heart became heavy. “And 
we must part?” he asked in a low voice. “Please 
do not say so! We, who have become like broth- 
ers .. . is there no other way?” 

“There is no other way,” replied the giant. 

“Do not doubt that I too shall grieve because 
222 


A DISCOVERY 


of our parting; but after searching for her in 
vain all these years ...” 

But Everychild, after a moment’s reflection, 
cried out resolutely, “There is another way. I 
shall go with you! And after you have found 
her, who knows ” 

The giant was now happy indeed. “You will 
go with me?” he cried; “you will leave all that 
makes you happy here and go with me into pos- 
sible perils? Then make haste — oh, make haste, 
that we may be on our way.” 

And speaking thus the giant rushed eagerly 
from the room. 

For a moment Everychild stood lost in 
thought. It was the Masked Lady who aroused 
him. “It will be but a short journey,” she said; 
and it seemed to Everychild that she sppke sadly. 
“Go with him, and be sure you shall make a 
speedy return.” 

He would have gone, then. Already he was 
putting great energy into his feet, that he might 
overtake the giant. But the Masked Lady de- 
tained him. 

“A word,” she said. “Be patient with him, and 
223 


EVERYCHILD 


comfort him, whatever may befall. And E very- 
child — ^take this with you.” 

As she spoke she produced quite magically 
the slim, shining sword she had lent him once be- 
fore. “Carry this,” she said. “When it is drawn 
a certain door which would otherwise remain shut 
will open wide. And be of good cheer.” 

He took the sword mutely, wonderingly. How 
should it cause a door to open? he mused. 

When he had reached the outer door he turned 
to look again upon the Masked Lady. She was 
smiling a little oddly — almost sadly, he thought. 
She was holding forth her hands toward the open 
window. She was not paying heed to him now. 
White doves were entering at the window and 
alighting on her hands. 


224 


CHAPTER XXVI 


THE HIDDEN TEMPLE 

T^VERYCHILD paused in the court long 
enough to explain to the Sleeping Beauty 
and his friends that he was setting forth on an 
important mission with Will o’Dreams; and then 
the two companions set forth from the castle and 
began the descent of the road which led down 
into the valley. 

Soon they came upon the road which they had 
formerly traveled — ^the Road of Troubled Chil- 
dren. And before the day was spent they had 
covered a great distance, since the giant, in his 
impetuous mood, set a very fast gait. 

Toward sundown they turned a little away 
from the road and entered a forest of a nature 
so confusing and forbidding that Everychild 
paused in dismay. But the giant kept straight 
on, saying he was very sure of the way, and after 

a moment’s halt, Everychild followed him. 

225 


EVERYCHILD 


In the very heart of the forest they paused, and 
Everychild’s eyes opened wide with wonder: for 
before them was an amazing sight. 

On a fair plateau a temple of white marble 
stood forth brightly in the light of the setting 
sun. It was the most perfect temple ever seen. 
It had a broad flight of steps, at the top of which 
there were pillars which almost resembled glass, 
so gi’eat was their purity. In the midst of the 
pillars there was a broad door set with precious 
gems. Here and there were alabaster urns. 

No one was stirring about the temple. The 
door was closed. But at a little distance, on a 
perfectly kept lawn, there were numerous square 
blocks of marble, and on these certain extraor- 
dinary-appearing persons were seated. 

We may as well know at once that the temple 
was the Temple of Truth; and the persons who 
sat on the blocks of marble, or pedestals, were 
known as Truth’s devotees. The names of the 
devotees were graved on the pedestals, and a few 
of those which Everychild could see were Mr. 
Benevolent Institution, Dr. Orthodox Doctrine, 
Mrs. J ustitia, Mr. Inflexible Creed, Mr. Profes- 
226 


THE HIDDEN TEMPLE 

sional Politician and Mr. Policeman. And of 
course there were many others. 

They were all dressed presentably enough, save 
that Mrs. Justitia’s robes were clearly of very 
cheap material, and the bandage about her eyes 
had slipped down so that one eye could be seen 
peeping out sharply; while Mr. Policeman h^d a 
really unsightly red nose, which made his blue 
uniform seem rather absurd. 

The devotees of Truth sat staring straight be- 
fore them. They seemed sleepy, and they con- 
tinually nodded their heads like mandarins. Mr. 
Policeman was the X)nly member of the group who 
did not nod continually. He was fast asleep! 
He stirred occasionally when a fly circled about 
his nose. On these occasions he waved his hand 
smartly before his face. 

The oddest-appearing member of the group 
was, perhaps, Mr. Professional Politician. He 
wore a tiny mask with a smile like a cherub’s 
painted on it. He kept touching the mask, as 
though he feared it might fall off ; and when he 

did so it could be seen that he had an enormous, 
227 


EVERYCHILD 

coarse hand which did not match the false face 
at all. 

Just the same, the temple was very beautiful; 
and Everychild and the giant stood gazing at it 
with reverence. 

The giant was the first to speak. “This is the 
place,’' he said. “And beyond that door, in- 
side the temple, is where my mother is hidden.” 

Everychild nodded. Presently he thought to 
ask: “And all those — ^those ...” He really 
could not think how to refer to those persons on 
the pedestals. 

But the giant understood. “We needn’t pay 
any attention to them just now,” he said. “They’ll 
neither see nor hear us as long as we just stand 
here. It’s only when we try to get into the temple 
that they become really terrible.” 

“And what do they do then?” asked Every- 
child. 

“Various dreadful things. Mr. Benevolent 
Institution would lock us up where we’d see the 
sky only now and then and where we’d have to 
wear uniforms, and all act alike and eat alike, 
and go to sleep and wake up together.” 

228 


THE HIDDEN TEMPLE 

Everychild shuddered and moved closer to his 
companion. “Don’t speak so loud, please,” he 
said. “And what about the others?” 

“Mr. Orthodox Doctrine is one of those fel- 
lows r., . . well, he used to burn you, you know; 
but now he freezes you.” 

“And the others?” 

“It’s not easy to explain. The lady — Mrs. 
Justitia — has a habit ... I hate to say it, but 
she’s forever asking you how much money you’ve 
got, and whether you’ve got any influential 
friends (if you could only know what she means 
by that!) — questions of that sort, which a nice 
person wouldn’t ask you.” 

“It’s all very strange,” whispered Everychild. 
“And the one with the red nose?” he asked finally. 

“Mr. Policeman. He isn’t really as bad as the 
rest of them. All he does is hit you over the head 
with a club and turn you over to the lady — ^to 
her with the bandage that’s always slipping 
off.” 

There was a silence, and then Everychild re- 
marked: “Still, it’s not plain why they’re all sit- 
ting around here where your — your mother ...” 

229 


EVERYCHILD 

“It’s just a pose,” said the giant. “What I 
can’t understand is why my mother doesn’t de- 
nounce them all. They do no end of harm. And 
it was they who drove me away from her long 
ago. They said I was a dangerous character, 
and they all conspired to ruin me. They gave me 
a bad name, so that everybody was willing to 
give me a kick in passing — all save a few gentle 
hermits and shepherds and persons like that. 
And now — now I truly fear they’ve got my 
mother locked up in her temple, so that she’s 
helpless. That’s what we’ve got to do: we’ve 
got to get her out. Even if we have to break 
down the doors. Though of course they’ll all 
try to destroy us if they know what we’re about.” 

For the moment Everychild forgot the sword 
he carried — which the Masked Lady had given 
him — and forgot also what the Masked Lady 
had said to him about a door which would not 
open save in the presence of that sword. He 
said nervously, “Hadn’t we better go away and 
come back some other time?” 

But his companion replied resolutely, “I shall 

not go away. I shall wait until they are all 

230 


THE HIDDEN TEMPLE 


asleep — or perhaps until she opens the door and 
appears.” 

One more question entered Everychild’s mind. 
“But if they all hate you so,” he said, “why do 
they all sit there now as if they did not care?” 

“I doubt if they recognize me,” explained the 
giant. “It’s been so long since they saw me. 
They probably think we’re mere idle travelers. 
You know there are many such; and few of them 
really try to enter the temple.” 

And so they stood and waited, and the devotees 
continued to nod like mandarins. It seemed in- 
deed that they would never go to sleep. And it 
came to pass at last that the giant could no longer 
restrain himself. To be within reach of his lost 
mother, and not to be able to speak to her — it 
was too much ! 

He began to advance silently, leaving Every- 
child where he stood. He proceeded, step by 
step, in the direction of the temple. And it be- 
gan to seem that he might reach the temple door 
without being seen. 

Indeed, he actually did so. He laid his hand 

on the door of the temple. The door would not 

231 


EVERYCHILD 

open! But instead, something quite dreadful 
happened. 

In the back row of devotees sat one whom the 
giant had not yet seen. It was Mr. Literal, 
seated on a pedestal marked with his name. 

This person started up with a scream of fury. 
He had recognized the giant. 

“Up!” he cried to his fellow-devotees. “The 
evil son has returned. Up, all of you, and de- 
fend the temple!” 

The others were all thoroughly aroused. They 
turned their eyes toward the temple and per- 
ceived the giant standing at the very door! 

They sprang toward him with great fury. 
They quickly surrounded him. It seemed that 
he must really perish before their wrath. And 
then — ^then what happened? 

Everychild could not stand idle and see his 
friend perish. He bethought him of the sword 
the Masked Lady had given him. He drew the 
sword quickly and with a loud cry he dashed 
toward the temple steps. 

He gained the side of the giant; and then — 
what is this? The devotees all turned to cower- 

232 


THE HIDDEN TEMPLE 


ing wretches! They put forth their elbows to 
ward off imaginary blows. They slunk back like 
base cowards. 

They had seen the sword in Everychild’s hand, 
and they had recognized it! 

Moreover, before the gleam of that sword the 
temple door swung open. 

The giant dashed into the temple to greet his 
mother. He became for an instant invisible. The 
devotees were now slinking back to a safe dis- 
tance. Everychild, without ever lowering his 
sword, smote them all with his glance of scorn. 

And then the giant reappeared. But oh, wh^-t 
a change had taken place in him! He held his 
hands aloft in an agony of despair. He stag- 
gered down the temple steps, followed by the 
wondering Everychild. 

“What is it?” asked Everychild in distress. 
“What ails you?” 

They were drawing away from the temple now, 
and the devotees were thronging back to the 
open door. They surrounded it, closing it with 
frenzied hands. 

The giant drew apart, giving no explanation to 


EVERYCHILD 


Every child just at first. But standing alone and 
heart-broken he lifted his hands high. 

^^She is goner he cried in a hoarse, agonized 
whisper. 

The devotees lifted their voices in a triumphant 
chorus — 

“She is within!” 

But the giant, his hands hanging limp now, 
and his eyes staring into vacancy, repeated in the 
same hoarse voice : 

“She is gone!” 


234 


CHAPTER XXVII 
HOW EVIL DAYS CAME UPON THE CASTLE 



S they left the temple behind them, on their 


return journey, Everychild could not help 
thinking that it was a very good thing to have 
found that the giant’s mother was not in the 
temple. To his way of looking at it, this argued 
that she had escaped from the terrible creatures 
who surrounded the temple. And if so, why 
should they not hope to find her elsewhere? 

But when at length he suggested this to his 
companion, the giant only replied, scarcely above 
a whisper, ‘T fear she has been slain.” 

And so Everychild walked by the giant’s side, 
glancing at him anxiously from time to time, and 
seeing despair written so plainly on his counte- 
nance that he did not venture to utter another 
word. 

When they approached the great entrance to 
the castle there was hurried running to and fro on 


EVERYCHILD 


the ramparts, about the doors and windows, and 
in the halls. Eager eyes looked down from the 
watch-tower. But soon all eagerness changed to 
alarm. They could all see that the giant had been 
smitten dreadfully: that the proud yet kindly 
head had been brought low. 

Silence reigned in the great reception hall when 
the giant entered. His friends all waited for him 
to speak, to relate the tale of his adventure. Many 
eyes rested upon him curiously, yet pityingly. 
And when Everychild, following the giant into 
the hall, placed a warning finger on his lip, the 
wonder grew and deepened to consternation. 

For an instant the giant stood among them, 
his trembling hands clasping his head. He saw 
none of his friends. Then he suddenly tottered. 
He would have fallen had not certain of the 
king’s courtiers sprang to his aid. They helped 
him to a chair; and there he sat with lowered 
eyes like one who would never lift his head again. 

The physician was sent for in haste. He came 
and looked down upon the giant. He questioned 
him, but received no reply. 

Then he looked upon those who surrounded 
236 


HOW EVIL DAYS CAME 


him and touched his own forehead significantly. 
“The malady is here,” he said. “This is no case 
for herbs and cordials.” 

They put the giant to bed and sent for the 
greatest physicians in the kingdom, including 
those who were skilled in ministering to the 
afflictions of the mind. There were muttered con- 
ferences and all the pomp which even the most 
cunning doctors knew how to exercise. Later 
there were bickerings and words of scorn and 
hatred among the healers. But it seemed they 
could not agree upon a remedy. One suggested 
this, the other urged that ; but the giant remained 
indifferent to it all — unconscious of it all. And 
his condition was not bettered in the least. On 
the contrary, he sank deeper and deeper into the 
despondent mood which held him. 

The others discussed his strange affliction. It 
seemed that many of them had known of the 
giant’s great longing to find his mother again. 
For days and days he had been quitting the castle 
early in the morning and going upon far and dan- 
gerous journeys in the hope of finding her. He 
had seemed quite confident of finding her. No 
237 


EVERYCHILD 


wonder that he should be smitten hard, now that 
he had been obliged to abandon his search. 

At last a new, alarming report spread through 
the castle : the giant was no longer remaining sil- 
ent, but was addressing all who came within hear- 
ing of him. But he was speaking only evil and 
false words. He was depicting the whole world 
as a place of shame and cruelties. He was paint- 
ing everything black. 

Everychild listened to him speaking in this 
strain on one occasion, and the effect upon him 
was unbelievable. Everything seemed different 
to him. The golden furniture in the finest room 
in the castle no longer seemed to be of gold. It 
was merely painted yellow, he thought. Even the 
Sleeping Beauty seemed changed in his eyes. 
Her face did not seem so perfect, after all ! There 
were moments when she seemed even common- 
place, not to say dreadfully old-fashioned. He 
fought against this state of mind, but all in vain. 

Seeing how things were going, the physicians 
urged that the giant’s friends be prevented from 
seeing him any more. They were even for remov- 
ing him to the castle dungeons and confining him. 

238 


HOW EVIL DAYS CAME 


But so great was the outcry against this extreme 
measure that it was not carried out. 

Nevertheless, as one day after another passed, 
it was plain that something must be done. The 
giant’s voice could be heard far and near, utter- 
ing evil words and pretending that things were 
quite unlike what they really were. And all this 
had an effect upon all his former companions. 

Cinderella was heard to say with a fearful 
sigh : ‘T am sure the prince of the crystal slipper 
will never find me. It is absurd to suppose sol” 

Hansel was heard to say, “Oh, yes, I get 
enough to eat now: but who knows how soon I 
shall be required to go without eating?” 

Grettel said, “It’s all very well, but no one can 
tell me we’ll come to any good in this place sur- 
rounded by a forest in which there may be all 
kinds of monsters!” 

Tom Hubbard maintained that his little black 
dog had never had so many fleas since the day he 
was born, and that it was all the fault of the old 
castle. 

Little Bo-Peep and Little Boy Blue were seen 
to weep together and to confide in each other the 
239 


EVERYCHILD 


fear that they would some day have to return to 
the folds to find that the wolves had become much 
larger and more ferocious than they had even 
been before. 

Even the gentle Prince Arthur became moody 
and remarked to Everychild on one occasion, 
“There’s always a good deal of visiting among 
kings, and we may expect some one to see me 
here sooner or later and carry word to King J ohn. 
And then there will be no further liberty for 
me. 

For the time being everybody forgot all about 
the Masked Lady, who sat alone much of the 
time, and regarded this person or that with stead- 
fast eyes through her mask. 

To speak quite plainly, the Masked Lady had 
been putting off to the last possible moment a 
step from which she could not help but shrink. 

The time had come for Everychild to take that 
dread journey to the Mountain of Reality. She 
had given him as many days of grace as she could 
possibly permit. And at last she said solemnly : 

“It shall be to-morrow.” 


240 


CHAPTER XXVIII 


THE MOUNTAIN OF REALITY 

f I^HE next day the giant, standing out on the 
^ rampart where every one could see and hear 
him, was shouting — “The world is full of evil! 
The world is full of evil!” And his friends 
thought sadly of that day, now only a little while 
ago, when it had been his wont to say that the 
world was full of good — ^that, indeed, everything 
was good if you looked at it in the right way. But 
suddenly he stopped shouting and lifted his 
head. 

It was the first time he had been seen to lift 
his head in a number of days, and it seemed very 
good to see him do this. He seemed to be listen- 
ing intently, and also with a certain faint, dawn- 
ing hope. 

At the very same time Everychild lifted his 
head also and listened, but as he did so he clasped 
his hands with dread. 


241 


EVERYCHILD 


And also Prince Arthur and Cinderella and 
Hansel and Grettel and the other children lifted 
their heads and listened. 

They had all heard some one playing on a 
pipe; and the sound, though distant, was very 
mysterious. It drifted up from the forest road. 
The notes continued to be heard, one by one, in 
the same strange, fascinating way. 

It was the giant who first began to move in the 
direction of the sound of the pipe. He did this at 
first as though reluctantly; but as he continued 
on his way he began to walk more alertly, and 
presently he seemed very eager. 

And then Everychild found it impossible to 
withstand that sound and he too moved away in 
the direction from which the notes of the pipe 
came. And the Sleeping Beauty, with a dreamy 
smile on her lips, walked with him; and Cin- 
derella followed a few steps behind. And then 
the others, one by one, fell into line : Hansel and 
Grettel, the sons and daughters of the Old 
Woman who lived in the shoe. Prince Arthur, 
Little Bo-Peep, Little Boy Blue, and last of all, 
Tom Hubbard and the little black dog. 

242 




MOUNTAIN OF REALITY 

They all marched down the mountain road, 
away from the castle; and presently they began 
to catch glimpses of a figure in the distance, 
moving on before them elusively, and leaving 
behind a trail of enchanting notes. 

They turned into the Road of Troubled Chil- 
dren, and far away they marched. Far away 
they marched, but the figure on ahead still eluded 
them — save that they heard the notes of the 
pipe clearer and more sweet and strange. 

But at last the figure that led the way could 
be seen more clearly, and Everychild murmured 
to himself: “It is the Pied Piper!” And when 
this thought had occurred to him he could scarcely 
repress his excitement. 

The figure in the road before them had now 
halted, though the dulcet notes went on and on. 
It was a truly fascinating person, to say the least 
— with a quaint costume, including a funny cap. 
But presently Everychild, coming closer to the 
piper, drew in his breath shortly. 

The player on the pipes was the Masked Lady ! 

She might have been thought to be dreaming 

as she lifted and lowered her beautiful fingers 
243 


EVERYCHILD 


where the openings in the pipe were and went 
on playing. Occasionally she glanced back to 
make sure that the children were all there. 

And then something very strange occurred. 
The ranks of children were augmented by other 
children. Along the road they came dreamily 
and took their places in the procession. They 
were Little Red Riding-Hood and the Babes in 
the Wood (the latter brushing withered leaves 
from their garments) and other children whose 
stories are known to be sad ones. And there 
was Aladdin again! — carrying his lamp, and 
smiling a little mischievously. 

Then the Masked Lady, in the guise of the 
Pied Piper, resumed her march, facing straight 
ahead, and moving with grace and maj esty. And 
the entire procession began to move. 

The children scarcely gave a thought to where 
they were going. Nor did they give a thought 
to going back. They were moved by a power 
which they did not understand to keep step with 
the music of the pipe. 

On and on they marched — on and on. They 
passed through silent forests and across beauti- 
244 , 


MOUNTAIN OF REALITY 


ful plains, up gentle hills and through sheltered 
fells. And the melody of the piper became so 
strongly accented that they could not help keep- 
ing step, even if they had wished not to do so. 

At last, however, they came to where there 
was a great dark mountain ahead; and E very- 
child thought to himself, “Now we shall have 
to turn back, since it would be too much for us 
to ascend that high mountain.” 

But the Masked Lady continued to march 
straight toward that dark mountain — which was, 
as she well knew, the fearful Mountain of 
Reality. 

The other children all beheld the mountain and 
they looked at one another with questioning eyes, 
as if each were asking the other, “Do you not 
consider it a terrible mountain?” Still, they 
never ceased to keep step with the music. 

They could see the mountain clearly now. It 
was cold and bleak and rose into the mists of 
the sky. There were great chasms in its sides, 
and precipitous heights and walls which it would 
have seemed impossible to scale. It seemed of a 

frightful hardness, too. 

245 


EVERYCHILD 


Most terrible of all, wild hunters were to be 
seen all the way up to the summit, and terrible 
beasts; and also one could catch a glimpse of 
solitary individuals who were climbing to the 
highest visible points, and some of these were 
falling back and hurting themselves terribly. 

“We cannot advance another step,” thought 
Everychild; for now they were indeed at the 
very base of the mountain. 

And then a miracle occurred, just when it 
seemed that the Masked Lady would be com- 
pelled to turn back. 

The mountain opened ! There was a cavity as 
large as an immense archway. Through this 
the Masked Lady advanced ; and then the entire 
band of children marched straight into the heart 
of the mountain. 

Everychild, looking back, perceived that the 
mountain had closed again after the last child had 
entered, so that they were now all prisoners! 

That was indeed a dreadful moment; for the 
heart of the Mountain of Reality was a great 
gloomy cavern in which ever5rthing seemed quite 
terrible. Nor would there have seemed any way 
246 


MOUNTAIN OF REALITY 

of escaping from the place. The light was but 
dim, so that objects were only obscurely revealed. 
But it could be seen that the top of the cavern 
was very high, while the walls were steep and 
formidable. 

A weird sound arose. The high walls echoed 
it, the dark ceiling flung it back. It went trem- 
bling into far places and returned, shattered yet 
with its weird quality unabated. 

It was the children weeping! 

It seemed their hearts would break, because of 
the dreary place into which they had been 
brought. And during this time the Masked Lady 
only stood and looked upon the children silently. 

Everychild could scarcely believe his own eyes, 
and he began a more careful examination of the 
cavern. 

He came upon water in half-hidden pools. 
‘‘But,” he reflected, “we could not drink of this 
water if we were thirsty. It is quite black.” 

He examined the paths which led from one 
place to another. “We could not walk in these 
paths, ” he mused, “because they are too rough.” 

He examined the natural stairways which led 
247 


EVERYCHILD 


to the upper chambers of the cavern. “But we 
could not climb those stairways,” he decided, 
“since they are too steep.” 

He came upon beds which had been spread for 
himself and his companions. “We could not 
sleep in these,” was his conclusion, “because they 
are too hard.” 

And as he continued his examination he be- 
came aware that he was standing close to Will 
o’Dreams; and something in his friend’s man- 
ner caused him to pause and observe him more 
closely. 

Because of the fulness of his heart he put 
forth a hand and touched his friend’s arm. The 
arm trembled. And then the sad truth became 
known. The scenes he had been called upon to 
witness here in the cavern had been too much for 
Will o’Dreams. He had been stricken with 
blindness ! 

It did not seem strange to Everychild that 
he should wish to run immediately and tell the 
Masked Lady of what had befallen the giant. 
Surely he must have felt a certain confidence in 
her, after all! 


248 


MOUNTAIN OF REALITY 


But when she had been informed of the giant’s 
plight she only said, “Let us be patient.” 

And then she began to speak to all the chil- 
dren, calling their attention to this matter or 
that. “Do not be afraid to drink of the water,” 
she said. “It seems black. That is only be- 
cause it is deep.” 

And drinking of the water, they found it to 
be sweet and refreshing. 

“Do not hold back from wandering in the 
paths,” she added. “Your feet will take them 
easily.” 

And wandering in the paths they found that 
they were not so rough as they had imagined 
them. 

“Do not falter if you wish to climb the stair- 
ways,” she continued. “Only try them.” 

And they tried them, and found that their 
limbs responded joyously to the effort they were 
putting forth. 

“Do not shrink from sleeping in the beds which 
have been provided,” she said at last. “They may 
surprise you.” 

And lying down in the beds which had seemed 

249 


EVERYCHILD 


so uninviting, the children were wooed to slumber. 
They were really comfortable beds, after all ! 

Strangest of all was the fact that Will 
o ’Dreams went about with the other children, 
guided by the sound of their voices, and by an 
occasional touch of Everychild’s hand; and one 
after another he tested the pool and the paths 
and the stairs and the beds. 

“Ah, how good it is to have them!” he said 
at last with a great sigh; and soon after he had 
sunk into deep and refreshing slumber. 

Nor were the others long in following his ex- 
ample. They had traveled far; and it seemed 
good to rest now, especially as they believed they 
might look forward to happy and wonderful ex- 
periences on the morrow. 


250 


CHAPTER XXIX 


THE MASKED LADY’S SECRET 

f k HOWARD morning Every child had a dream. 
In his dream his mother came and stood 
near him, and looked at him wonderingly and 
sadly. And then — ^in the dream — ^his f ather could 
be seen, standing apart and slowly shaking his 
head. 

It seemed that there was a cry of joy in his 
throat, and that he ran to embrace his mother. 
He felt that he should weep for joy when he flung 
his arms about her neck and felt her face touch- 
ing his. 

But then he awoke, and his parents were not 
there: but only the great chamber in the heart 
of the mountain, and all the other children rising 
from their beds, eager to begin a new day. 

He could not rid his mind of the vivid dream, 

nor his heart of the strange softness it had 
251 


EVERYCHILD 


brought. And as soon as he could do so he 
sought the Masked Lady, his intention being to 
inquire of her what his dream had meant. 

She stood waiting for him, as it seemed, and 
he approached her with increasing eagerness. 
And now he perceived that she was no longer 
wearing the dress of a piper, but had on the soft 
white dress in which he had first beheld her, and 
wore a jewel in her hair. 

He had the strange thought that she might be 
really beautiful if only she would remove the 
mask which gave her face that distant expression 
and almost hid her eyes. And he remembered, 
all of a sudden, how he had often been helped 
by her, and how she had always been near, as if 
she wished to help him even more, and how she 
had comforted him that night when he had seen 
a star fall by assuring him that he was a little 
bit of God, 

He began speaking to her with a new feehng 
of constraint. “I dreamed of seeing my mother 
and father last night,” he said. 

She smiled faintly. “I know,” she replied. 
“All the other children had the same dream. That 
252 


THE MASKED LADY’S SECRET 

is what all children dream of here in this cham- 
ber.” 

He opened his eyes very wide. How could 
she know what all the other children had dreamed, 
since it did not appear that they had told her of 
their dreams? But he continued: “They seemed 
a little sad,” he said. “My mother’s eyes were 
troubled, and my father shook his head.” 

“Yes, Everychild?” 

“And I wondered if I might not see them 
again, really. It would be good to see them 
again; and you know I have come so far . . .” 

The Masked Lady replied: “Nothing delights 
me so much as to have children and their parents 
find each other. That is my highest dream — ^to 
bring together the parents and children who have 
lost each other.” 

“And shall I find them?” 

“I think you are on the way even now to find 
them — ^perhaps sooner than you dare to hope.” 

“If I could find them now,” continued Every- 
child, “I think I could willingly give up my 

search for — for the truth. It seemed a wonderful 
253 


EVERYCHILD 


thing to seek for when I began, but I am not 
anxious to do so any more.” 

There was a new note in her voice as she re- 
plied, “Truth is very close to those who still 
seek, but who have ceased to be anxious.” 

He did not know why the words should have 
thrilled him so. If he could find the truth, after 
all, and still have his parents again! He per- 
mitted his eyes to rest on the Masked Lady’s 
rather forbidding face. And then he began im- 
pulsively — “Dear lady! ...” 

“Yes, Everychild?” she returned gently. 

He sought eagerly for the right words. “I 
did not know it myself for a long time,” he said, 
“But I think I know now ...” 

“I am waiting, Everychild!” 

His voice almost failed him. “There was such 
a long time that I thought I feared you a little,” 
he continued, “ — ^when it seemed better to stand 
quite apart from you and look at you from a dis- 
tance. But you’ve been so good a friend that 
now at last ...” 

“At last, Everychild?” 

He timidly sought her hand ; and having found 
254 


THE MASKED LADY’S SECRET 


it he stood with downcast eyes. “At last I know 
I — I love you!” 

Still standing with downcast eyes he could not 
know how radiantly she appeared before him. 
He could not see how the mask fell from her face 
at last. The Masked Lady no more, but Truth 
herself in all her glory ! 

She cried out triumphantly, “Lift up your 
eyes, Everychild, and look at me!” 

He lifted his eyes slowly, gaining courage little 
by little. And when he looked upon her an ex- 
pression of amazement and swiftly dawning de- 
light was in his eyes. 

“You are — oh, it is you!” he cried, fearing even 
yet to name her. 

“It is I,” she said. 

And he was not fearful of her now. Truth 
at last — and yet she was one who had been near 
him a long time and had often aided him. 

“But you are beautiful!” he cried at last in 
wonder and delight. 

“I am always beautiful to those who love me,” 
she said. 

“But oh, dear lady,” he cried, “could you not 
255 


EVERYCHILD 


have helped me to know you in the beginning?” 

“Ah,” she replied, “each soul must find me for 
itself.” 

Then she put her arm about him and comforted 
him for long days and nights of wandering. 

They were interrupted soon by the other chil- 
dren who came forward eagerly. They too had 
come to tell their dream ; and Everychild watched 
joyously while Truth — to him the Masked Lady 
no more — reassured them by saying that even 
now they were on their way to find their parents. 
And the children gathered together in groups 
and agreed that they all wished very much to 
see their parents again. 

And then Everychild listened attentively while 
Truth declared to the assembled band: “If you 
would really find your parents again, and be 
happy with them, you must promise one thing 
only: that you will love them better than you 
love yourselves.” 

And all the children, having forgotten many 
of the hardships they had undergone at home, 
replied almost in one voice — 

“We promise!” 


256 


THE MASKED LADY’S SECRET 


Then after they had remained silent a little 
while, wondering how they were to find their par- 
ents, from whom they had wandered so far, they 
began to inquire how so difficult a thing could 
be brought about; and they were informed that 
it was true that one great obstacle still lay in 
the way of their return to their parents, but that 
perhaps it would be possible to remove that ob- 
stacle. 

They drew apart, whispering among them- 
selves and looking beamingly into one another’s 
faces. 

They were startled suddenly by a great voice, 
crying out in anguish — 

“Lady — dear lady!” 

It was the giant, who had remained apart a 
little because of his blindness. He was now ap- 
proaching Truth, his hands outstretched. 

“I am here,” she said. And he came and 
knelt by her side. 


257 


CHAPTER XXX 


WILL O’DREAMS MAKES A DISCOVERY 

F or a moment the giant remained silent, 
his heart so torn by doubt and fear that he 
could not speak. But at length he said: ‘T have 
heard how you would restore the children to their 
parents . .. 

‘T hope to do so,” replied Truth. 

He cried out in sorrow, “Yet none may restore 
me to my mother, whom I have lost.” 

“Be not so sure of that!” she said. 

Whereupon hope was kindled in his heart. He 
pondered, feeling that he was in the presence of 
one who was very wise and kind. And then he 
said: 

“And I have heard Everychild say that you 
are beautiful.” 

She did not reply to this. She waited for him 
to continue. 

“You will forgive me for speaking what is in 
258 


WILL O’DREAMS’ DISCOVERY 


my heart,” he said at length. “But my own 
mother, from whom I was driven by cruel, stupid 
persons long ago, was very beautiful. And I 
have always dreamed that some day I should en- 
counter a beautiful lady and that she should prove 
to be the mother I lost.” 

She replied to him in a low voice: “And by 
what sign or token should you recognize her, if 
you were to encounter her again after all these 
years?” 

“Alas, what hope is there for me, now that I am 
blind? While I could yet see I hoped to know 
her by her calm glance, by the serenity that 
never was troubled by any evil chance ... I 
cannot say; but I never would believe that I 
should not be helped to recognize her.” 

She meditated a little. And presently she said, 
as she leaned closer to him, “And did you never 
give her anything — a token, perhaps — ^that she 
might have treasured and kept, by which you 
might recognize her?” 

give her anything?” he exclaimed incredu- 
lously. “It was she who gave, not I. What was 
there I could have given her? And yet ... I 
259 


EVERYCHILD 


remember once when I was a child I brought her 
a pretty trifle, and her eyes grew bright and she 
drew me to her and laid her cheek against my 
hair. And there were other things — but they 
were only trifles, after all.” 

“Trifles?” she echoed passionately, “trifles?” 

He began, “There was ” And then he 

broke off. “I am ashamed to say,” he said. “It 
was nothing.” 

She reflected earnestly. And at length she 
said, with new eagerness in her voice, “But if you 
ever And your mother, and fail to know her, and 
she shall tell you what those trifles were — you 
shall know that it is she. Is it not so?” 

“It is true,” he said. 

A rapturous smile began to illumine her face. 
“Trifles, dear child!” she cried. “Should you 
call them trifles? — One was the first song ever 
sung; and one was the first tale ever told ” 

She paused, because he had clasped his hands 
together in ecstacy and seemed almost to cease 
to breathe. 

“And one,” she continued, “was the first pic- 
260 


WILL O’DREAMS’ DISCOVERY 


ture ; and one ” Her voice became all but in- 

audible, “ — one was the first prayer.” 

His voice arose in a great shout of triumph. 
“You are she !” he cried “You are indeed she !” 

And he reached forth and clasped her in his 
arms. At last they were united again. 


CHAPTER XXXI 


HOW ALADDIN MADE A WISH 

\ ND now the time had come for Truth to 
determine whether, indeed, the children 
might be reunited with their parents — for there 
yet remained the need of exacting a pledge from 
the parents themselves. 

But the parents were far away and in many 
places, and it must needs be a difficult task to 
consult them all to learn if they were ready to en- 
ter upon a just and binding covenant. 

Everychild drew near, after Truth and the 
giant had been reunited, in the hope of being able 
to help in the next great step which lay before 
them. However, there was something else to be 
attended to first : There was the pleasant duty of 
congratulating the giant, not only upon being re- 
united with his mother, but also upon having re- 
gained his sight. For it was now apparent that 
a great happiness, following after a period of 
262 


ALADDIN MAKES A WISH 


dark distress, had enabled Will o’Dreams to see 
again perfectly! 

After this unexpected consummation had been 
gratefully discussed, there was much to say about 
the great reunion which they all had at heart. 

Everychild was of the opinion that it might 
prove all but impossible to retrace their steps over 
the way they had come. And the other children, 
one after another, agreed that it was too much to 
hope that they might find their way back over 
the devious paths by which they had come. 

It was then that they were all aware that one 
of their number had remained apart and was now 
regarding them almost piteously. 

It was Aladdin 1^ — Aladdin, holding his ac- 
cursed lamp to his bosom, and gazing at them 
with beseeching eyes. 

Everychild called to him to join them; and 
as Aladdin came up he said, “And so, Aladdin, 
you still have your lamp. And that means, of 
course, that you have not yet wished for the best 
thing of all/' 

“Alas, no,” replied Aladdin. 

Everychild continued : “We are anxious to find 
263 


EVERYCHILD 


our parents again, but we were thinking how 
difficult this would be, because they are in many 
places, and far away.” 

“Nothing could be simpler,” declared Aladdin; 
and he held forth his lamp and regarded it with 
a grim smile. 

Everychild leaned forward with great eager- 
ness. “Tell me what you would do,” he said. 

“I would make a wish,” said Aladdin, “that 
here and now, all the troubled children and their 
parents might be forever united.” 

The children were all nearly spellbound. Could 
such a strange wish be made successfully? They 
marveled, yet they were scarcely incredulous. 
They came in an awed silence and formed an 
audience before Aladdin, even the little black 
dog coming and sitting up before a group of chil- 
dren where he could see everything that took 
place. 

There was a solemn silence at last. Every- 
child’s eyes were filled with a kind of fearful 
rapture. But Aladdin’s confidence was un- 
shaken. He smiled a little mockingly, as if he 
were greatly enjoying the solemn situation. 

264 


ALADDIN MAKES A WISH 


The great test began. Aladdin rubbed his 
lamp before the eyes of all, so that they could 
see precisely what took place. 

There was one brief interruption when Han- 
sel’s voice could be heard in an impatient whisper 
bidding Grettel refrain from moving her head so 
that he could not see. But silence was imme- 
diately restored. 

Again Aladdin rubbed his lamp, and smiled 
upon his audience almost tauntingly. 

A third time he rubbed his lamp, this time 
with a stern, expectant expression in his eyes. 

There was a rumbling sound ; it seemed to grow 
almost dark. And then a genie appeared. The 
genie made a low salaam and awaited instruc- 
tions. 

Said Aladdin, ‘T wish that here and now all 
the troubled children and their parents may be 
forever united. Conduct us to the Hall of Par- 
ents, and assemble the mothers and fathers!” 

The genie disappeared. 

An instant later — wonder of wonders! There 
were echoing noises at one end of the great cham- 
ber. What had seemed to be a wall of stone 
265 


EVERYCHILD 


proved to consist of scores of great gates, stand- 
ing tier upon tier. And the gates began to open 
and fold back. One after another they opened 
and folded back, revealing an immense, brilliant- 
ly-lighted space of incomparable grandeur. 

It was the Hall of Parents! 


266 


CHAPTER XXXII 

THE HALL OF PARENTS 

fT^HE children arose and stood in their places 
breathlessly when that scene was revealed 
to them. Never had they seen such bright lights, 
so high a ceiling, so many splendid decorations. 

There was not a single parent in sight, it is 
true; but this did not disturb their joy, since it 
was plain that any number of parents might be 
near by, waiting for a wand to be waved, or a 
wish to be made. 

On the far side of the Hall there was a great 
semicircle of painted curtains, like those in a 
theater, with only narrow spaces between them. 
On these curtains were painted scenes and figures 
of men and women. Above each curtain a pen- 
non was flying. 

From some invisible place strains of music 
floated, and the music was of the kind which does 
267 


EVERYCHILD 

not make the heart either heavy or light, but 
simply tender. 

The children began to advance into the Hall 
of Parents, gazing with wondering eyes at the 
painted curtains, which held for them a strange 
fascination. As they drew nearer they perceived 
that in the middle of the semi-circle of curtains 
there was an opening, with soft draperies before 
it, as if it were here that the parents would pres- 
ently enter. 

Then the pictures on the curtains began to 
become clear, and there were cries of joy and 
amazement from the children. One picture 
showed the mother and father of Everychild. 
The mother sat at a table, her face buried on her 
arms. The father stood helplessly beside her, 
his hand on her shoulder. 

Another picture showed the wicked King John 
of England sitting gloomily on his throne. 

Another showed the mother and sisters of Cin- 
derella seated before a fireplace, silent and for- 
lorn. Near them, and gazing at them challeng- 
ingly, was the figure of a gallant young man with 
a crystal slipper of great delicacy in his hand. 

268 


THE HALL OF PARENTS 


Another showed the parents of Hansel and 
Grettel, the father clasping a loaf of bread to 
him and gazing abstractedly before him. 

Another showed Old Mother Hubbard stand- 
ing before a cupboard and looking into it in- 
tently. 

Another showed the unique residence of the 
Old Woman who lived in a shoe, with the Old 
Woman herself standing dejectedly near the gap- 
ing opening in the toe. 

Others showed certain not easily recognizable 
ladies and gentlemen: perhaps the parents of 
Little Bo-Peep and Little Boy Blue and others. 

And high above all these homely pictures, 
which were exaggerated just enough to be really 
fascinating — like the pictures at the side-show 
of the circus — fluttered the soft pennons. 

The curtains themselves wavered deliciously, 
so that you could guess something was going on 
behind them. The music which made your heart 
tender never ceased to flow from its invisible 
place. 

Closer and closer the children pressed, still 
scarcely daring to breathe, and feeling certain 
269 


EVERYCHILD 


that their parents would not be much longer with- 
held from them. They were becoming more and 
more eager. Even the little black dog mani- 
fested the greatest excitement. 

And at last Truth stepped forward purpose- 
fully and took her place just in advance of the 
band of children. She had never seemed more 
impressive. Her white dress gleamed in the 
bright light, and the gem in her hair was of every 
color one could imagine. 

She began to speak. 

‘T very seldom make a speech,” she said. 
“Scarcely once in a hundred years do I make 
a speech in public. But if you will bear with 
words for once, instead of deeds — upon my as- 
surance that deeds shall immediately follow — I 
have this to say to you : 

“It is a very great thing when children find 
their parents again after losing them; but the 
last good of all, and perhaps the greatest, is 
when parents find their children whom they have 
lost. 

“You who have assembled here have found 
your parents at last. This I know, not because 
270 


THE HALL OF PARENTS 


you have come here into their presence — for you 
must know they are behind yonder painted cur- 
tains, which we shall presently lift — but because 
you have learned to know the need of them, and 
because you have come in very truth to love 
them. 

“We shall see now if your parents have found 
you.” 

The children caught at that saying, which 
seemed wholly obscure to them, and wondered 
what meaning could lie behind it. But in the 
meantime Truth had turned toward the curtains. 
She gazed at them one after another in an intense 
manner, and finally she stepped close to the one 
whereon the likeness of the Old Woman who 
lived in a shoe was painted. 

In a commanding voice she cried out, “Old 
Woman who lived in a shoe, appear!” 

The curtain moved; it was thrust forward a 
little at one side, and the Old Woman who lived 
in a shoe stepped out ! 

To her Truth spoke calmly yet with a certain 

majesty. ‘T have come,” said she, “to restore 
271 


EVERYCHILD 


your children to you, to be yours forever — but 
on one condition.” 

The Old Woman lifted her sad eyes and gazed 
in amazement at Truth. “To think,” she blurted 
out, “that they should have run up against the 
like of you! How may I have them again to 
keep? Speak — ^there's a good soul!” 

The reply came in a ringing tone: “You must 
promise to love your children better than you 
love yourself.” 

“I do — oh, I do!” cried the Old Woman, the 
tears starting to her eyes. 

What happened then? At a sign from Truth 
the children went spinning toward the Old 
Woman. She drew the curtain out a little so 
that they could slip into the hidden space behind 
it. One after another they eagerly disappeared, 
and then she followed them. 

When they had all disappeared. Truth moved 
along to the next curtain, on which a portrait of 
Old Mother Hubbard was painted. She called 
out commandingly, “Old Mother Hubbard, ap- 
pear!” 

As in the former case, the curtain was pushed 
272 


THE HALL OF PARENTS 


out at one side, and you could tell that some 
one was coming. Old Mother Hubbard ap- 
peared ! 

To her Truth said: “Your greatest unkindness 
to your son was your unkindness to his dog. If 
you would have your son again, you must promise 
to love him better than you love yourself — and I 
advise you first of all to think kindly of the dog 
that was his friend.” 

She had scarcely finished speaking when Old 
Mother Hubbard cried out in broken tones: 

“Give me his dog!” 

The little black dog bounded joyously toward 
her, followed by her son Tom. They were shown 
into the place behind the curtain, Old Mother 
Hubbard following them with the greatest haste. 
They could be seen no more. 

But Truth was already speaking again in clear 
tones: “Father and mother of Hansel and Gret- 
tel, appear!” 

And the father and mother of Hansel and 
Grettel appeared from behind their curtain, and 
stood hand in hand, with downcast eyes. 

Said Truth to them: “The father and mother 
273 


EVERYCHILD 

who would not share their last loaf of bread with 
their children — ^nay, who would not deny them- 
selves that their children need not go supperless 
to bed — deserve not the love of children. They 
love themselves overmuch. But if at last in your 
hearts ” 

The mother of Hansel and Grettel could not 
wait for the end of the sentence. She turned 
stormily to her husband. ‘Tt was you who per- 
suaded me to do it — ^to lose the poor little things,” 
said she. 

The father retorted promptly, “It was that 
you, good wife, might not starve that I con- 
sented to lose the children in the wood!” 

But Truth interposed: “It is not a time now to 
fix the blame, but to make amends. Come, mother 
and father of Hansel and Grettel: can you prom- 
ise that hereafter you will love your children 
better than you love yourselves?” 

It was the father who replied, speaking in earn- 
est tones: “Gladly shall we deny ourselves here- 
after, if need he, that our children may have 
bread; and in all other ways we shall strive to 
show them that we love them better than we love 
274 


THE HALL OF PARENTS 


ourselves.” To which the wife nodded once for 
each word. 

Whereupon Hansel and Grettel ran swiftly 
to their parents, who made a way for them to 
pass behind the curtain, and they all disap- 
peared. 

And now Truth was crying out, “Mother of 
Cinderella, appear!” 

Not only Cinderella’s mother, but her sisters 
too (their curiosity aroused to the topmost pitch) 
appeared before their curtain. 

Said Truth, addressing the mother: “She 
whom the crystal slipper fits — and well do you 
know her name— will return to you, forgiving 
and forgetting all, if you will promise to love her 
better than you love yourself.” 

“Ah,” replied Cinderella’s mother, “I’ve done 
that this long while, I think — ^but how was I to 
let her know? Let her come to me this instant 
and she shall never have cause to complain 
again!” 

Then Cinderella approached her mother and 
received a kiss; and then her mother led her 
solicitously into the space behind the curtain, 
275 


EVERYCHILD 


the two sisters following with awe-stricken faces. 

For the first time now Truth faltered as if 
she had no heart for the next task she had to 
perform. She was standing before the curtain 
on which the likeness of the cruel King J ohn was 
painted. And at last she cried out: 

“John, King of England, appear!” 

There was a pause — and then an echo of sound. 
The curtain trembled ; it was pressed forward at 
one side. Slowly and with awful majesty King 
John appeared. His crown was on his head, his 
kingly robe of ermine fell from his shoulders, 
there was a kingly staff in his hand. His eyes 
were like a storm-cloud, his brow like thunder. 

It was now that Truth spoke more impressively 
than she had done before, saying, — 

“And you — it is true that you were not Prince 
Arthur’s father, but only his guardian. And yet 
it may be you would atone for your crimes against 
the poor fatherless prince. Come, Sire — ^this boy 
who knew no father save you: if I give him back 
into your keeping can you promise to love him 
better than you love yourself?” 

The king frowned more darkly. “Better than 
276 


THE HALL OF PARENTS 


I love myself!” he said incredulously. “Can a 
king love any one better than he loves himself?” 

Truth continued: “I cannot read the heart of 
kings. It is for you, Sire, to speak. I know not 
what a king’s highest vision may be ; but I know 
no man should have power over another, save 
it be the power of self-sacrificing love. I await 
your answer — and the prince waits.” 

But the king repeated, musingly and darkly 
— “Can a king love any one better than he loves 
himself?” 

There was a moment of suspense; and then 
Truth would have moved on; but at the last 
instant the king cried out, “Stay a moment — I 
command you!” Twice he tried to speak; and 
then he said : “That little prince, so helpless and 
beautiful! You need not think that I have not 
repented me of my sins toward him. In the dark 
nights the winds have brought me back the echo 
of his sighs; and by day I have seen in every 
ray of sunlight the gleam of his hair, and in the 
blue sky the beaming eyes of him. Perhaps if I 
might try again, though he stood in my way . . . 

if you would send him hither ...” 

277 


EVERYCHILD 


But he had not promised, and though Prince 
Arthur waited, ready to go to him. Truth did not 
give the signal. 

The king was frowning mightily and saying to 
himself, ‘‘Can a king love any one better than 
he loves himself? Nay, that could not be!” 

In a nervous, slinking manner, he drew back 
behind his curtain. 

Prince Arthur drew his cloak about him more 
closely, as if he were cold. Then with an air 
almost spectral, yet very sad, he drew further and 
further away, always keeping his eyes upon the 
picture of the king. 

He came to the folded hangings which opened 
no one knew whither. He parted them and passed 
out. While his hand still clung to the hangings 
there came a flash of lightning which revealed 
the chaos of nothingness without. Thunder rum- 
bled. Then the hangings fell back into place 
and the prince was seen no more. 

So it went on until all the children had been 
restored to their parents — all save Everychild. 
And now Truth paused before the curtain 

278 


THE HALL OF PARENTS 


whereon the likeness of Everychild’s parents was 
painted. 

“Parents of Everychild, appear!” she cried. 

They came, subdued, saddened, hand in hand. 
And Truth addressed them. 

“Parents of Everychild,” she said, “I need not 
tell you now why Everychild is lost to those 
who should be nearest to him. You have learned 
that coldness and neglect toward those who have 
a right to look to you for love and good will 
is the one sin for which punishment is most in- 
evitable. But so long as the world stands Every- 
child shall not forget his father and mother; and 
at last he comes to take you into his heart to 
cherish you for ever and ever. Will you — ^but ah, 
I need not ask I I know that at last the parents 
of Everychild, tried by suffering and time, love 
him better — oh, far better — ^than they love them- 
selves.” 

To which the parents of Everychild cried out, 
“We do — we do, indeed!” 

Then Everychild gave his hand to the Sleep- 
ing Beauty, who seemed a bit overawed by all 
that was transpiring, and led her toward his par- 
279 


EVERYCHILD 


ents. They stood with outstretched hands. And 
immediately they passed with the utmost happi- 
ness behind their curtain. 

They had all disappeared now — ^yet no, Alad- 
din and Will o’Dreams remained. 

Aladdin had been sitting apart, watching 
everything that took place. He had kept quite 
out of the way. Now he arose leisurely and 
moved toward those hangings through which 
Prince Arthur had disappeared. He meant to 
join Prince Arthur! 

But just before he disappeared he turned 
about. A blissful smile was on his lips. He 
held his hands high. 

His lamp was gone! 

He passed from sight. He could be heard 
singing dreamily, “Tla-la-la ... tla-la-la . . .” 
His voice died away. 

Now Truth remained all alone save that her 
son. Will o’Dreams, remained gazing at her hap- 

piiy- 

But suddenly she perceived an intruder near 
her. For the last time, Mr. Literal was there 

beside her. He was smiling smugly and tetering 
280 


THE HALL OF PARENTS 


back and forth on his feet. “You seem very well 
satisfied with yourself/’ he said with a sneer. 

She only turned toward him serenely. 

“Yet all the same/’ continued Mr. Literal, 
“the story is full of meaningless things and in- 
consistencies.” 

“Do you think so?” she returned. 

“Of course. Take those unhappy pictures of 
childhood, for example. You don’t mean to 
argue really that Everychild is treated un- 
kindly?” 

She replied thoughtfully, “I fear that Every- 
child is sometimes treated unkindly.” 

He seemed to weigh this point and to remain 
unconvinced. He moved more confidently to the 
next point. “At least,” he said, “you’ll scarcely 
contend that Everychild marries the Sleeping 
Beauty?” 

She replied with assurance: “Everychild mar- 
ries a Sleeping Beauty. To him she is beautiful, 
and she is asleep until he comes.” 

Mr. Literal lost patience. “Very well,” he 

said, “but you know it’s true that Imagination — 
281 


EVERYCHILD 

I believe he calls himself Will o’Dreams — is not 
a giant as he’s been represented here.” 

She replied calmly, “The greatest giant of all: 
the forerunner of every dream, of every deed!” 

But Mr. Literal had reserved his most crushing 
argument for the last. “Well,” said he, “it is cer- 
tainly not true that Everychild has a little dog 
for a companion!” 

And now for an instant Truth seemed really 
confused. But after faltering a moment she 
overcame her confusion. She smiled and beamed 
with real good will. “Perhaps not,” said she, 
“but ah, Everychild should have!” 

But Mr. Literal was not to be conciliated. 
“And as for your not having a mask on any 
more, as Everychild would have it, that’s non- 
sense. It’s there, just the same as ever.” 

“To you — ^yes, I know,” she replied. 

“To every one!” he exclaimed irritably. “I’ll 
leave it to the world.” 

“Let us see,” she said; and she turned to her 
son. Will o’Dreams, with a significant smile. 

It seemed that he understood ; for he faced the 

painted curtains with sudden purposefulness. He 

282 


THE HALL OF PARENTS 


held his arms aloft — and all the curtains began to 
ascend. The result was almost bewildering. 

In one place was the great shoe, just as we 
have seen it before, and all about it were the 
Old Woman’s sons and daughters, seemingly the 
happiest children in the world. Their mother was 
smiling contentedly. 

In another place there was the interior of Old 
Mother Hubbard’s cottage, with the little black 
dog just receiving a fine morsel, and with Tom 
and his mother looking on with great joy. 

In another there was a mean cottage interior 
— ^the home of Hansel and Grettel — ^with the 
parents holding their son and daughter close to 
them. 

In another was the dreadful King John, pond- 
ering moodily on his throne. 

In another there was the kitchen of Cinderella’s 
house, with Cinderella holding her skirt back 
and looking in ecstacy at two perfect crystal 
slippers on her feet, while her mother and sisters 
and a perfectly fascinating prince looked on with 
rapture. 

In another there was Everychild, being held 
283 


EVERYCHILD 

close to his mother’s side, while the father stood 
apart, his hands in his trousers pockets and a 
complacent smile on his lips. There was the 
lamp shade with the red beads, and the clock like 
a state capitol, and everything. 

As the curtains went up the persons in the 
various groups looked out upon Truth, who asked 
in a perfectly assured tone: 

“Good people, tell me: am I wearing a mask?” 

Let me close my tale by leaving the answei 
to you, dear reader. 

What is your decision? 

Does she wear a mask? 


THE END 









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